


The Power of Love

by SpencerWWW



Category: Anne of Green Gables (TV 1985) & Related Fandoms, Anne of Green Gables - L. M. Montgomery, Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: F/M, Wordcount: 10.000-30.000
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:02:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22199047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpencerWWW/pseuds/SpencerWWW
Summary: “Miss,” He nodded to her as he fell into step beside her.“Can I help you?” She asked, her eyes not leaving the path.“Gilbert Blythe, Miss.” He introduced himself, causing her to finally look up at him.“You were staring at me.” She recognised him, to which he shrugged. “I don’t suppose you know why you were staring at me, Mr Blythe?”Gilbert couldn’t help the faint blush that coloured his cheeks. “I couldn’t help but be impressed by the way you talked to Mr Phillips. He only picked on you as you were, in his mind, tardy.”She hummed. “I take it that is high upon his disapproval list.”Gilbert laughed. “Indeed it is, Miss.”“Lorelai, please.”“Then you shall call me Gilbert.” He announced.Gilbert Blythe has lived in Avonlea for as long as he could remember, but after the arrival of Lorelai Winters, things begin to change. As tragedy strikes, Gilbert Blythe finds himself leaning on the most unlikely of pen pals.What happens when Gilbert returns to Avonlea?Love?
Relationships: Gilbert Blythe & Anne Shirley, Gilbert Blythe & Delphine Lacroix, Gilbert Blythe & Mary Lacroix, Gilbert Blythe & Sebastian "Bash" Lacroix, Gilbert Blythe/ OC, Gilbert Blythe/ OFC, Gilbert Blythe/ Original Female Character(s), Gilbert Blythe/Other Female Character(s), Gilbert Blythe/Other(s), Gilbert/ OC
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	1. Chapter One: Meeting

Gilbert Blythe sat at his desk in the small classroom, his eyes lingering on the red head sitting across from him. He was supposed to be concentrating on the Maths work that Mr Phillips was writing on the board, but he wasn’t interested at all. He rarely was when Anne Shirley-Cuthbert was around.

  
Suddenly, the door to the school opened and an older woman, followed by a much younger one entered. The young girl had dark red hair, a light scattering of freckles, and she wore a pale green dress.

“I hope we’re not interrupting. I was told this is where my granddaughter could come to be educated.” The woman waved her hand at the younger girl, whose long hair hung over her shoulder in a braid, and she held her books and slate in her hands.

  
“She may take a seat, and will be along, home, after school.” Mr Phillips gestured to a seat at the back of the classroom, and the elderly woman nodded once and headed back out the door, shutting it behind her.

  
“Name girl?”

  
“Lorelai Winters.” Her voice was polite, and Gilbert picked up on the slight English twist. His eyes lingered on her for a moment longer, before he turned back to Mr Phillips who was staring at her. “Miss Winters, can you answer the questions on the board?”

  
To anyone else in the room, this would have been a test they would not have been able to pass; they had just begun the topic that hour, but the girl lifted her head, then cocked it to one side. Her green eyes scanned the white lettering.

  
“Forty-one, twenty-eight and twelve.”

  
Mr Phillips, who was sitting on the edge of his desk, slipped slightly, his eyes narrowing at her. He glanced at the board, then at the sheet of paper in his hand. “Correct.” He frowned, clearly disliking the fact she had shown him up.

  
Gilbert glanced back at her, a small smile on his face as she lay her slate on the desk, and then she glanced around the room, her eyes locking with him. She shot him a smirk. Her rosy lips pulling back in the most mischievous look he could possibly imagine from any girl.

  
Something inside him made him look back at her only minutes later, to find she was sitting, her dress sleeves pushed up to her elbows, and her nose in a book. As if she knew he was looking at her, she looked back at him. She sent him another smirk and disappeared behind the book.

  
Gilbert turned back to the front of the classroom and then glanced towards Anne Shirley-Cuthbert, who was staring at the board, mild concentration written on her face. She still hadn’t looked at him since the girls had spoken to her earlier and he had a feeling that wasn’t about to change.

  
“Miss Winters, if you’d care to listen, you might learn something.” Mr Phillips snapped only five minutes later, and Gilbert glanced around to find that Lorelai was sitting, still engrossed in her book.

Slowly she lifted her gaze from the pages and glanced first at him, then at the board. “As I have already demonstrated, I can complete those maths problems, if you’d care to try something else, I’d be thrilled to prove I can probably solve those too.”

  
Something about her bored tone and disinterested seating made Gilbert snigger, along with the rest of the class.

  
Mr Phillips scowled. “Stand up.” He growled at her.

  
She stood up, her head cocked to one side as she watched him approach her. He towered over her small frame, but she didn’t appear bothered by their clear height difference. A smirk played on her lips.

  
“To the black board with you.” Mr Phillips snapped.

  
“What would you like me to do there, sir? Teach in your stead?” Though her tone was innocent, it only added to the effect as the class roared with laughter, from all except Anne and Prissy, both of whom looked aghast.

  
“Sit down.” He hissed at her, and she obliged, and picked up her book again, disappearing behind its pages.

  
For the rest of the day, Mr Phillips acted as though Lorelai Winters didn’t exist. This contrasted to Gilbert who could barely take his eyes off her as the school day wore on. Finally, they were excused and Gilbert followed the girls to the back, to fetch his coat.

  
Usually Gilbert walked the majority of his way home alone, so he was surprised to find that Lorelai was walking only a few metres in front of him on the path. He glanced back at the road they had just been walking and then jogged to catch up with her.

  
“Miss,” He nodded to her as he fell into step beside her.

  
“Can I help you?” She asked, her eyes not leaving the path.

  
“Gilbert Blythe, Miss.” He introduced himself, causing her to finally look up at him.

  
“You were staring at me.” She recognised him, to which he shrugged. “I don’t suppose you know why you were staring at me, Mr Blythe?”

  
Gilbert couldn’t help the faint blush that coloured his cheeks. “I couldn’t help but be impressed by the way you talked to Mr Phillips. He only picked on you as you were, in his mind, tardy.”

  
She hummed. “I take it that is high upon his disapproval list.”

  
Gilbert laughed. “Indeed it is, Miss.”

  
“Lorelai, please.”

  
“Then you shall call me Gilbert.” He announced.

  
Lorelai rolled her eyes and quickened her pace.

  
“Are you in a rush?” Gilbert asked, frowning, near on jogging to keep up with her despite her shorter legs.

  
Lorelai stopped, taking Gilbert by surprise and he whirled around to face her as he had blown past her in his attempt to keep up with her. Her eyes moved over his face and then to his clothes and shoes.

  
“Mr Blythe, I am under no illusion. The girls told me of a certain fondness one of them have for you, and I, according to them, ought not interfere.” Lorelai’s cheeks coloured deeply and Gilbert took three steps backwards, the look of absolute confusion written across his face.

  
“I am not intended or involved with anyone, it would not be proper, Miss Lorelai.”

  
“Be that as it may, I have been encouraged to stay away from you, in order to avoid disagreements with the other girls of our class.” She nodded to him once. “Good evening Mr Blythe.” With that, she stalked past him and up the path ahead, leaving him rooted to the spot.

The next morning, Gilbert Blythe was waiting for Lorelai on the path to school. She gave him a look of utter disbelief and kept walking. She kept silent as they walked, though he made a few attempts to talk, each one, every question went unanswered.

  
“Why on earth would you want to talk with these girls if they dictate who you can and cannot be friends with?” He finally burst out, as they approached the road to the school.

  
Her eyes finally met his. “I would really appreciate it if you could keep your voice down.”

“Why?”

  
Lorelai let out a frustrated sigh, and stopped walking. Gilbert stopped too, turning to face her. “Alright, here’s the deal: you can go on being irritating and not get anywhere, or you can let me at least make nice with the crazy girls of this quaint little town, and then you can talk to me on the way to and from school.”

  
Gilbert frowned but nodded. “That doesn’t sound entirely pleasing, but if that is what you are offering.”

The next few weeks went by quickly, as Lorelai flourished within the group of girls, though they appeared to struggle with Anne, who Lorelai - though she also struggled with her - tried as well as she could and kept up her quiet friendship with Gilbert Blythe.

It was nearly midnight when Lorelai was awoken by her grandmother. She shot out bed and raced to the window, looking out at the fire in the distance. She jammed her feet into her boots and raced from the house, readying the horses while her grandmother arranged baskets of food. She led one horse, while riding the other up to the house and her grandmother handed her the baskets, before together they galloped over to the road. Along the way, Lorelai spotted Gilbert Blythe racing up the road to help.

  
Lorelai stopped the horse and offered a hand to Gilbert, who swung on behind her, and together they raced up the road behind her grandmother.

  
They came to a stop outside the family home of Ruby, from their class. The whole house was ablaze and she could see the family gathered, sobbing outside. Gilbert immediately began to help, while Lorelai assessed the situation. Her eyes moving to the open doors and windows. Her heart slammed in her chest.

  
“The windows, and doors.” She mumbled weakly. “They’re all open.”

  
Her eyes moved across the groups of people working together to put out the fire, and her eyes lingered on Gilbert who was scaling the house to help. She took a deep breath and snatched up a pile of saved clothes from the house and dropped them, and herself, into a trough of water before running into the house.

  
Her mind worked quickly as she raced up the stairs, slamming doors and dropping the wet dresses at the bottom of the doors. Clearly, Anne had had the same thought as she charged in not a moment later, armed with more wet clothes and blankets. They locked eyes with Gilbert, who shouted them over the roar of the fire, but his voice was lost to the flames as the two girls slammed the door to the bedroom shut; vanishing from his sight.

  
The two girls managed to close the doors, and Lorelai draped the last wet blanket over Anne, pushing her towards the door. Lorelai stumbled behind, her throat and lungs burning as she dropped to the floor for air. The two girls emerged from the house and were immediately enveloped in hugs by women.

  
“Did it help?” The two girls asked in unison watching the fire, their ears ringing.

  
Lorelai sat down, her hand shaking and her eyes moving along the line of people to Gilbert; sitting on the roof, his eyes reflecting the fire as he threw pail after pail of water into the house.

  
Hours later, Lorelai dragged herself up to bed, her whole body exhausted. They had worked through the night in order to save the house. They had of course succeeded, but repairs would be needed before the family could move back in. Ruby had gone with the Cuthberts, the others had been divided up amongst the community.

  
The next morning it was common knowledge that the town men were repairing the Gillis house. Lorelai sat with her grandmother while she baked goods for the men, and the families of those who had taken in the Gillis’.

  
“Take these over to the men, would you?” Dorothy Winters asked her granddaughter, as she sat down at the table looking over the mess she had made.

  
“Of course Grandmother.” Lorelai slipped on her coat and gloves and picked up the large baskets of goods, before leaving the house.

  
When Lorelai arrived at the Gillis house, she could see the men working hard on the burnt house, and Gilbert was sitting on the roof of the house, repairing one of the windows, with Billy Andrews. The two turned as she approached and Gilbert gave her a wave, which she ignored as she set out the variety of snacks and treats her Grandmother had made.

  
“Thank you, these look wonderful.” Gilbert’s familiar voice came from over Lorelai’s shoulder, and she turned, offering him the cream scone, filled with more cream and strawberry jam. He took it. “They are indeed delicious.” He announced with a beam.

  
“My grandmother made them.” Lorelai nodded, knowing that they would in fact be some of the best things made. “She has a family recipe from back in England.”

  
Gilbert grinned. “You’ll have to let me in on that secret.” He shot her a wink.

  
Lorelai narrowed her eyes. “Clearly you don’t understand family recipes.”

  
Over Gilbert’s shoulder, Lorelai spotted Anne and Ruby headed towards them, and she turned on her heels back towards the table, and was greeted by the face of Billy Andrews. She rolled her eyes and picked up the, now empty, basket and headed back down the road.

  
“Good day to you Miss Winters!” Gilbert called after her, smirking.

  
Upon return home, after her deliveries, Lorelai set about making dinner while Dorothy Winters wrote her letters. Lorelai sliced their vegetables and gave them a helping of honey - that Gilbert had given her from his bees - before setting them into the oven, turning her attention to the meat that her grandmother had been cooking in apple juice all day.

  
“I heard that you were quite rude to that teacher of yours.” Dorothy Winters peered over her glasses at her Granddaughter. “I suppose you have good reason to have done so?”

  
“First day; he called me out for reading, when I was keeping out of the way after displaying I was ahead of the class in their Maths.” Lorelai shrugged, as she dusted off her hands on her apron. “He didn’t seem to care for me after that.”

  
Dorothy threw her head back in laughter. “Oh child, you remind me of myself.”

  
“Is that a good thing?”

  
Dorothy chuckled, glancing over at the drawing of herself and her husband on the wall. “Your grandfather and I; once we were courting.” Dorothy shifted in her seat, rearranging the blanket over her knees, her pen lay forgotten. “He would give me wildflowers, for my mother, and once in a while, he would smoke a cigar with my father. The perfect gentleman; in contrast to me of course. In school, he would forever be aghast and impressed with my ability to irritate my teachers, no end. Eventually, I was thrown out of school, and upon his graduation we married. The teachers used to tell him that he ought to choose a sensible wife; the type that did not talk back or get herself into trouble. Your grandfather always used to say that those kinds of girls, made for those kinds of wives. He called them brainless and air-headed.”

  
“What exactly are you getting at here, Grandmother?”

  
Dorothy tsked. “I’m getting at the fact I brought you up to be both. You have skills I never had when I became a wife; you can cook and clean. On the other hand you can cope on your own; you can split firewood and have a sharp wit that could keep anyone on their toes.”

  
“I wouldn’t wish it any other way.” Lorelai smiled. “I will forever be grateful to you.”

  
Dorothy rolled her eyes. “Lorelai, it is not about gratitude. It is about using that brain of your and making sure that you know no one may take it away from you, unless you let them. Do not let that teacher bully you into dumbing yourself down or dulling your tongue.”

  
Lorelai grinned at her Grandmother. “Thanks Granny.”

  
That night, Lorelai stared out of her bedroom window. She ought to be writing a letter to her Grandmother in Paris, but the words would not come to her, and the things she wanted to say, were not to be put down in words. The pen rolled between her fingers, idle, and her gaze stretched to the trees surrounding their farm.

  
It had been months since she had seen her other grandmother, but she knew she wasn’t as well as they had all hoped she would be. Her gaze moved from the window to the book the old woman had sent her the week before. 'The Ladies’ Book of Etiquette'. She scowled, it had always been her Grandmother Walter’s belief that she was unbecoming of a woman, with her sharp tongue and lack of an ability to dance and cook as well as she might. Though Dorothy Winters had the majority of the say in what she did with her life, as she controlled her inheritance, it was also the place of Mrs Mary Walter to have a say in what Lorelai was to do with herself. At least until she was married.

  
Lorelai sighed, and opened the book for some inspiration, her eyes falling on the first page the book opened to; ‘Dress: Morning Dress’. Lorelai rolled her eyes, it was just like Mary Walter to be the most strict she could ever be about the code of dress for any day of the week.

  
“Dear child, you are struggling with that letter.” Dorothy Winters was stood in the doorway, watching her Granddaughter. “I take it Mary is expecting an update on your studies.”  
Lorelai snorted in the most unladylike way and stood up, dropping the book back on her bookshelf, with the rest of her books, that she was aware she was lucky to have. “You mean she’ll be expecting commentary on absolutely everything in the book, and how I expect to change my ways to suit the book.”

  
Dorothy sighed. “I don’t suppose she’ll appreciate any less.”

  
“Of course, She won’t see me for another year, so I could probably get away with regular letters to the woman; put a little more into each one.” Lorelai set her ink and pen back into their places and dropped her paper back into the file she kept it in. “But that will take more of my time than getting it over with.”

  
“You could just tell her that I intend to arrange suitors for you, upon your becoming of the correct age.” Dorothy sat beside the younger girl, on the bed, brushing her hair out of her face.

  
“She’d have me shipped over to Paris in a heartbeat.” Lorelai groaned, putting her face in her hands. “She already hates that I am not under her gaze at all times, under her instruction to grow up a proper lady.”

  
Dorothy chuckled. “Perhaps you’ll have some idea of what to write in the morning. Say your prayers and sleep, my child.”


	2. Chapter Two: Visitors and Letters

The next few weeks passed in a fashion of school and work. Lorelai woke each morning and readied breakfast before heading to school each weekday. She would spend her day staring idly at Mr Phillips as he bored them all with chapters of their novels or poetry, testing their spelling or set maths work on the board.

  
On the weekends, and after school, she wrote to her Grandmother in Paris, ensuring to the best of her abilities to make it sound as though she was at least interested in the book - knowing full well that her Grandmother would demand her return in a heartbeat if she thought she might be on, what she might consider, a wrong path.

  
Aside from this, she baked and tended the vegetable patch under the watchful gaze of Dorothy Winters. Each day learning something new, and adding at least one recipe to her growing book.

One morning in mid December, Lorelai woke early and immediately dressed. She headed straight out to attend her chores, despite the early hour, with the sun just beginning to rise, and then returned to the house, in order to arrange breakfast for her Grandmother.

  
Lorelai had barely set her Grandmother’s place at the table, when there was a knock at the door. She turned, her eyes lingering on the shadow, and she unfastened her apron and headed to the door, smoothing out the skirts of her dress.

  
On the porch stood Mrs Rachel Lynde.

  
“Good morning dear, I wished to speak to your grandmother, if at all possible.”

  
Lorelai pushed away the desire to raise her eyebrows and allowed the woman inside. She took her coat and gloves, before seating her at Lorelai’s breakfast seat and pouring the water into the teapot. She then made her excuse to leave and fetch her Grandmother, who was already fastening her bun into place.

  
“What would she call about, so early?” Dorothy tsked, before settling her eyes on her granddaughter, who was dressed for the day. “Have you enough breakfast for three?”

  
Lorelai nodded, before heading back into the kitchen to set another plate.

  
Rachel Lynde had clearly set off particularly early to meet with Dorothy Winters, though despite this, she was dressed properly, even her gloves were perfect. She fixed Lorelai with a piercing gaze as she watched the young girl flit around the kitchen, before Dorothy entered.

  
“Mrs Lynde, what an unexpected pleasure this morning. I profusely apologize for keeping you waiting.” Dorothy gave the other woman a small smile, and took her seat at the table, watching Lorelai pour the tea. “I do hope you are all well.”

  
“Indeed we are Mrs Winters. I only came this morning, quite so early as I wished to catch you both, before Lorelai set off to school.” Mrs Lynde was always to the point; but the outright statement she wished to speak with Lorelai too, caught both of the Winters’ by surprise. “I have heard quite the chatter in the village. It would appear that Prissy Andrews has been seen touching Mr Phillips by some of the other girls in Lorelai’s class.”

  
Dorothy, who had been half way through a sip of tea, set down her cup and narrowed her eyes at Mrs Lynde, then turned to Lorelai. “Is this true?”

  
Lorelai was sitting, her jaw hanging open, her mind reeling. At her Grandmother’s question, she snapped her jaw shut, and glanced to Dorothy. “I had heard the other girls talking about it, but in all honesty, I thought it was just hearsay from others. If you were to talk to Anne and Diana, they would surely be able to give you more reliable information, I know they saw something.”

  
Mrs Lynde didn’t relent. “What is he like towards her in class? I know the two of you sit together.”

  
Lorelai thought about it for a moment. “He watches her sometimes, and she always appears nervous when he walks between the desks. They do exchange looks sometimes.” Lorelai’s thoughts turned to her books. “Prissy is sixteen though.”

  
Mrs Lynde tsked. “No matter; I have indeed heard Anne and Diana’s descriptions. As I understand it, Prissy and Mr Phillips were unchaperoned. I can’t understand how they were able to keep up such a charade of innocence for so long. He has been tutoring her in her father’s own home.”

  
Dorothy and Mrs Lynde shared a dark look.

  
“I take it they are announced?” Dorothy frowned.

  
Mrs Lynde hummed. “In not so many words.”

  
Later that morning, Lorelai headed to school, her mind running over the conversation of that morning. Her eyes lingered on the road to Gilbert’s house. It had been a few days since he had been seen in school, and she had heard from Anne that his father was most unwell. Of course Dorothy Winters had gone over that evening, with dinner and her cleaning supplies to help, leaving Lorelai to look after herself.

  
Her eyes lingered on the figure, dark against the white snow, chopping wood outside the Blythe home. Her stomach twisted. She sighed and continued on her way to school. Her mind now on Gilbert Blythe.

  
That night, upon return home, Lorelai found her Grandmother sitting at the kitchen table. The fire and the stove were unlit and she was holding a letter, written on heavy paper. She gave Lorelai a sad look as the girl set down her school books and slate, and hung her coat.

  
“Come and sit beside me, dear.” Dorothy sighed.

  
Lorelai sat down.

  
“Word has come from Paris.” Dorothy held out the letter to Lorelai. “It would appear Mary is gravely ill, and will need tending to. I have booked passage on a ship for us both. I will escort you back to Paris this evening, and you return to Avonlea after the funeral, I will return one week after our arrival at the Paris townhouse.”

  
Lorelai’s heart sank immeasurably. “Thank you, Grandmother.”

  
That night, before she was due to climb aboard the family carriage, Lorelai headed to the Blythe farm. She knocked on the door once, and it flew open. Gilbert stood there in the doorway, his white shirt rumpled and his braces hanging at his side.

  
“Lorelai.” He whispered. “A most wonderful surprise.”

  
“I am sorry that I come bearing terrible news.” Her voice shook slightly. “I am to return to Paris in the hour; my Grandmother Walter is gravely ill. I was wondering if it would be possible to write to you, while I am away.”

  
Gilbert Blythe, despite his own family misfortune at that moment, smiled, perhaps for the first time in over a week. “I would greatly appreciate that.”

  
Lorelai smiled. She handed over the slip of paper that held her Grandmother’s address, tied shut with one of her ribbons and her fingers brushed his.

  
Their eyes met.

  
“Good bye, for now, Gilbert Blythe.”

  
“I will write to you.” He promised.


	3. Paris

The next two weeks, Lorelai spent her time on board the ship. She had already written two letters to Gilbert, that she would post upon her arrival in France, and read and reread all of the books she had brought with her. She scowled as she threw the Etiquette Guide back into her trunk. 

“Will you not just find something else to do?” Dorothy sighed as she sat beside the fire in their stunning suite aboard the ship. The stunning embroidery work in her lap had taken her the majority of their journey and they were perhaps only a day away from their disembarking port. “I am well aware you don’t enjoy that book, but your Grandmother will expect you to be able to recite it as well as you do that Blythe boy’s address.”

Lorelai sent her Grandmother a scathing glare. “I don’t care for your insinuation Grandmother. There is nothing romantic between Mr Blythe and I.”

Dorothy nodded. “If you say so, Lorelai.”

Lorelai scowled. 

“Come now, dear, we are nigh upon our destination. Your Grandmother will not approve of this behaviour.” Dorothy chided. “Perhaps Mary will give us a reprieve from study for a day and allow you to sleep a few hours.” 

Lorelai gave Dorothy a questioning look. “Do you, at all, recall Grandmother Walter’s disposition?”

Both women cracked a smile. 

“True enough, my dear, you may be correct.”

The ship docked at the port the next afternoon and Lorelai headed straight to the post office on the dock, dropping in the letters and then she headed to her Grandmother’s carriage that was waiting, with the family servants.

“I never liked the way Mary relied so heavily on the help. It is why I refuse to live in the house in Charlottetown.” Dorothy admitted to Lorelai. “I insisted on bringing up your father, and you, without them around. The same way my mother brought me up.” 

Lorelai snorted. “Sometimes I wonder if my mother loved him, or if she only married him for the money.”

“Your father did marry the exact type of woman I told him not too.”

The carriage ride took another two solid days of riding and by the time Lorelai and Dorothy arrived in their Paris home, it was dark. They were immediately taken to their rooms and left for the night, much to Lorelai’s relief. A servant aided her changing, much to Lorelai’s discomfort, and then she was alone, with the promise of being woken for a bath the next morning, before being taken to her Grandmother Mary. 

Lorelai entered her grandmother’s room the next morning, clean, well dressed and with a tray laiden for breakfast. The woman was sitting at her desk, the newspaper open on the desk and she had her reading glasses propped on the end of her nose. 

“Good morning Grandmother.” Lorelai announced, setting the tray down on the table beside the desk, and pouring the tea, in a fashion the older woman had taught her and would approve of. “The servants are at work, and I have brought you oatmeal, toast and eggs for breakfast. Earl Grey tea and freshly squeezed orange juice.” 

The woman sniffed. “Very well.” She examined the way Lorelai was holding herself and gave a curt nod. “I have arranged for your tutor to arrive tomorrow, you will learn english, french, latin and maths with him, under the watchful gaze of my assistant housekeeper. You will study for three hours a day with him, then luncheon with me in the greenhouse, and then you will learn the ways of a  _ woman _ .”

“Yes, Grandmother.” Lorelai kept the resignation out of her voice. “What about your illness?” 

“If I am to die, I will do it in my own way; with you well on your way to surpassing those imbeciles at the Finishing School.” Mary Walter fixed the girl in front of her with a piercing gaze. “I am glad your hair is darker, this time. You fit that chin of yours better too.”

“Thank you Grandmother.”

“You will get Saturdays to do with as you please, and Sunday afternoons. We will attend the Church Sunday mornings.”

Lorelai curtseyed, knowing when to take her leave and headed for the door. She was stopped as she moved to exit. 

“Thank you for coming, my dear.”

The next few months, Lorelai spent learning, and minding her business in her room. She received letters from Gilbert infrequently, though she wrote him back immediately, and she knew he did too. The stamps on his letters, as well as the tales within his letters, told her of the places he had been.

The first letter she had received from him had been sorrowful. He had lost his father and the funeral, while beautiful, was painful. He had received her letters the morning of the funeral, which had cheered him immensely. 

The second letter had announced his intention to travel. He had given her an idea of where he was booking passage, and where to send her letters to, and in every letter since then, it had been signed off with his next address. 

In the words he wrote her, he told her of the people he had met, the joy he had felt and of course, the wonderful Bash. In each letter to Gilbert Blythe, she told him of her learning, and how her Grandmother was pushing her so. She told him of the trips she had taken to England and different cities in France, she also told him of how poorly she did in French, and how she had chased away eight tutors in the time she had been in Paris. 

He wrote back with jests.

In some of his letters, Gilbert had sent along small presents for her, a small stone from a beach they had docked at, and a feather from a distant island with exotic birds. He had even sent a small photograph of him and Bash together at a port in England, announcing they were in the same country at the same time once more. In turn she had sent him a photograph of her time at a soiree, with an explanation of the people that had attended, a sample of her favourite tea and each letter she wrote to him, was tied with the last ribbon she had worn.

Gilbert had also written about what he missed back at Avonlea; the way in which the fog lay on the early morning in autumn, and the way the blossom smelt before harvest time at his homestead. 

Lorelai had written back about the way she had missed the fresh, clean air of the farms. The chatter of people at lunch time at school, and the way in which they had walked together, to and from school for months. 

One morning, ten months after her arrival in Paris, Lorelai, as usual, attended her Grandmother’s room to provide her with breakfast. Only to find her grandmother, cold and grey. She lay in her bed, her face slack and without emotion. 

The tray tumbled from her arms and scream for help left her lips. 

In a flurry of movement, the servants ushered her from the room and attended the body. They called for a doctor, of whom pronounced Mary Walter, deceased. 

Lorelai retired to her room for two weeks, only eating and drinking when forced by the housekeeper. The housekeeper, despite what any etiquette book Lorelai had read had told her, was fond of her. Perhaps due to the way Lorelai kept her own room clean, helped in cooking and asked about each and every one of their families, knew them by name and conversed with them in their native language - with difficulty and laughter among - or because she was paid to. 

“Miss Lorelai, it is time to get up. Your Grandmother, Mrs Winters, is arriving today and you ought to be presentable.” Lucy cried, as she poured the last of the water into the bath. “I’ve drawn you a hot bath. We’ll wash your hair and you can dress in mourning, for the funeral.”

It was only due to the travel time, and Lorelai’s reaction to the death - though she had not always seen eye to eye with her Grandmother, she had grown fond over her stay in Paris - that the funeral had been postponed an extra week. 

“I’ll wash myself, thank you Lucy. You may go attend the kitchen. I know you have much to do.”

The hot water eased Lorelai’s aching muscles, for she had been curled up much too tightly in a ball in bed. She stared at the black mourning dress, Mary Walter had ordered be made for her, and lay back in the water. 

She washed and then washed her hair thoroughly, before climbing out of the bath and drying carefully, before she took down the dress that hung on the side of her wardrobe and began to dress. 

There was a knock at her door, and she turned, finishing her last bow on her dress and called for the individual to enter. A servant girl, perhaps only a few years older than herself entered with a curtsey. In her hands she held a letter, on a tray. 

“This came for you, Miss.”

“Thank you Jane, you may go.” Lorelai smiled softly as she recognised the handwriting on the envelope. 

Lorelai had barely sat on the bed to read the letter when the door opened again and Dorothy Winters swept into the room, her mourning dress in place and her hair perfectly tied. She gave Lorelai a once over before patting the chair in front of the vanity, indicating that she would do Lorelai’s hair for her. 

Lorelai sat quietly, while her grandmother brushed her hair. 

“Is that another letter from that Blythe boy?” Dorothy inquired as she passed the silver backed brush through Lorelai’s red waves. “I’ve heard from the staff, you’ve had quite a few in your stay here in Paris.”

Lorelai rolled her eyes. “The staff shouldn’t be talking of my correspondence.” 

Dorothy chuckled. “Indeed, unless the Lady of the House asks.”

Lorelai rolled her eyes once more and ran her thumb over the stamps. “In his last letter, he told me of there being a rumour of gold in Avonlea.” 

Dorothy tsked. “Indeed it was rumoured. The Cuthberts had a  _ geologist _ boarding with them. Scammed the villagers of the harvest money and ran, he did. Beat the Cuthbert’s farm hand on the way.”

“The Cuthbert’s had borders?” Lorelai frowned.

“They were on the verge of losing the farm; they did what they felt was necessary.” Dorothy explained as her fingers worked Lorelai’s hair into place. “I suppose it would be a bad time to ask it you wished to return to Avonlea, with me tomorrow?”

Lorelai stared at the older woman in the mirror. “I need to think about it. Obviously, I’ll be unsupervised here, and I always planned on coming back upon Grandmother Mary’s death, but I don’t know if it would be too much change, so quickly.”

“We can stay in Charlottetown, if you would prefer?”

“No.” Lorelai took a deep breath. “If we are going to return to the area, I want it to be proper. I would feel terrible to return only half-heartedly.”

Dorothy nodded, watching her Granddaughter fondly as her fingers brushed over the dark lettering of Gilbert Blythe’s letter to her. She watched Lorelai’s face as she flipped over the letter, and split it open. 

Whatever the letter disclosed, clearly had an effect on Lorelai Winters, as with a shaking hand, she folded the letter back up and set it on the vanity. Her eyes moved from it, to her Grandmother’s face and then to the window. 

“Did that letter have news you wished to hear, or news that hurt you more?” 

Lorelai’s eyes moved back to the mirror. “I’ll return with you to Avonlea, but I want to return to school. I want to be around people of my own age group once more.”

“What of the letter, Lorelai?”

“Gilbert says Anne wrote to him of the gold. He says that he told her he wasn’t sure he would ever return to Avonlea.” Lorelai turned to examine the updo her Grandmother had created with her hair. “Apparently he next ports in Trinidad; he is most intrigued to find out how Bash grew up.”

Dorothy nodded. “And how does that make you  _ feel _ ?”

Lorelai huffed. “I do  _ not _ have feelings for Gilbert Blythe, Grandmother!”

“Indeed.”

The next morning, Lorelai’s trunk was strapped to the back of the carriage and she settled herself inside the carriage, across from her Grandmother. Lorelai kept her face bowed, still wearing a version of mourning clothes, though these fit, by Mary’s standard, to travel in. In her lap was a book, though she wasn’t actually able to focus on the words, as her mind was on the letters, hidden amongst her belongings; from Gilbert Blythe. 

Her heart ached slightly at the thought of him not being there when she returned to Avonlea, but in another way, it might be good for her. This way she could cut ties. His letters would take longer to get to her as she had not disclosed the fact she was returning there, and even if she did, it would take even longer for the letter to reach him, as she would already be posting from Canada by the time she had written him back. 

The carriage lurched and rolled along the roads to the docks. 

It took them nearly eight days to reach England, as bad weather halted their journey, and by the time they reached Nova Scotia, Lorelai was sure that she never wanted to ride a steamship again, despite requiring a ship to travel from Nova Scotia to the mainland. 

By the time they reached Charlottetown, Lorelai was over travelling, and they elected to stay in their home there overnight, before catching the morning train back to Avonlea. Lorelai went to bed that night, staring at the stack of letters from Gilbert Blythe, that she had set on her bed side table. 

“Why would you want to return to Avonlea, if you had such a time travelling the high seas?” She asked the letters, her voice quiet. 

She rolled over in the bed. “Lord!” She sat up, startled by a thought. “Now I sound like Ruby Gillis!” 

With that terrifying thought, she climbed from the bed and dropped the letters into the depths of her trunk. She tucked herself into the bed once more, and thought only of the train journey back to Avonlea the next morning. 


	4. Return to Avonlea

The house in Avonlea was nothing out of the ordinary; it was unassuming. The small house showed not of their wealth or status as the townhouse of both Charlottetown and Paris did, and it certainly had no room for servants and help. In her time away, her grandmother had changed the drapery and the room no longer smelled of baked goods, instead it smelled almost stale; evidence of her time away, at almost five weeks. 

Lorelai helped her Grandmother get the place cleaned up that morning, and then the pair stood baking that afternoon.

It was late afternoon when there was a knock at the door, and Dorothy opened it to find Mrs Lynde on the porch. Bidding the older woman a hello, she opened up the house to her, and took her coat, while Lorelai put on a pot of water to boil. 

“Please excuse the mess, we’ve just finished baking.” Dorothy smiled.

“Lorelai, I had seen you travelling in with your Grandmother. I hope you are well.” Mrs Lynde touched Lorelai’s arm as she set a plate in front of Mrs Lynde.

“I’m perfectly well, thank you Mrs Lynde.” Lorelai smiled at the older woman and then set two more plates on the table for herself and her Grandmother. “I do hope you and your family are well also.”

“Indeed we are, thank you, dear.” Mrs Lynde watched the young girl pour the hot water into the teapot and set it onto the table. “I heard you had been educated in Paris, under your maternal Grandmother’s wing?” 

Lorelai nodded. “I’m back here, for the foreseeable future; after her death, though.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

The next morning, Lorelai took a deep, nervous breath as she left the house, on the way back to school. Her mind moved over the lessons she had had in Paris, and how far ahead, or far behind she might be.

She reached the door of the school and steadied her breathing before opening the door. Inside the girls were crowded around a table, while the boys were just beyond the stove in the centre of the room. She set down her hat and coat, and her lunch, before heading into the main room, immediately grabbing everyone’s attention. 

Her eyes moved along the familiar faces, to the one face she hadn’t expected. There, leaning against one of the front desks, much taller and leaner than he had been the time she last saw him, was Gilbert Blythe. 

“Lorelai?”He breathed, moving closer to her. 

She quickly composed herself, remembering her Grandmother’s instruction. “Mr Blythe.” She nodded, courteously, before turning back to the girls, and setting down her slate and books. Her heart pounded in her chest as she sat herself down. She could practically feel his eyes burning into her, but she was immediately surrounded by the girls in the class, all of whom wanted to know all about Paris. 

Not two minutes later, the classroom door opened again and in walked who could only be Anne Shirley-Cuthbert. However, in the time that Lorelai had last seen her, she had chopped off her hair, into an incredibly short cut, resembling that of a boy. 

Diana immediately moved to help her, while Lorelai turned to Ruby, who was watching Anne with narrowed eyes. It immediately became clear to Lorelai, that Ruby knew of Anne’s letter to Gilbert Blythe in his time away, and she was still not over her schoolgirl crush. 

Anne sat three rows in front of Lorelai. It became incredibly clear that she haircut was new, as the moment Mr Phillips came into the room, he was quite rude about her new haircut. Some of the class laughed, but Lorelai noted the way Gilbert looked over at her, then at the teacher. 

That lunch time, Lorelai sat beside the brook that ran alongside the school. Her eyes moved over the evidence of their coldest of seasons, and the turned fields. She ran her fingers over the spine of the book in her lap, while she chewed on the sandwich her Grandmother had packed the night before. 

“I never got a reply to my last letter. Six weeks with no word from you.” Gilbert’s voice was different to how Lorelai had remembered it. There was a maturity from it, one that came with time. Of course she had noted his changes that morning, upon his unexpected appearance.

“I thought you said you weren’t coming back to Avonlea.”

“Plans changed. I brought Bash back with me. He doesn’t care much for the winter here.” There was a laughter in his voice that Lorelai could almost feel in her chest. “He always asks after you when letters arrive.”

Lorelai stood up, turning to face him, and was immediately taken back with their height difference. “I was attending a funeral the day your letter arrived, telling me of your plan not to return to Avonlea. Of your next destination. By the time I had time to reply, I didn’t much feel like writing to you. There was almost no point, being on a ship and all.”

Lorelai knew that they were being watched, primarily by the girls of their class who lingered in the window out of the cold. Her stomach swirled with feelings from the way he was looking at her, the hurt in his eyes, and sorrow for her. 

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled. “I had no idea.”

“I know, I didn’t tell you.” Lorelai moved past him, then turned around again, to see him staring after her. “Sorry, that was rude of me. I’ve just been taken by surprise. I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

Gilbert’s face softened, he smiled slightly. “I accept you apology, _Lorelai_.”

“Good day to you too, Mr Blythe.”

Lorelai missed the dazed and impressed look from Gilbert as she retreated into the school building. Gilbert rubbed his hand through the back of his hair, a small smirk playing on his lips as he ran his mind over the stack of letters he still had, tied in various coloured ribbons of different material. They sat on top of the stack of books beside his bed, and each one smelled faintly of lavender or vanilla, one even of rose water. 

He sighed, and headed back into the School House. 

Lorelai stood with her book in one hand and an apple in the other at the window when he returned to the classroom, and he was well aware of the way the girls were watching him. He took a deep breath and headed over to the boys, of whom grinned and made room for him in their circle. 

The next few hours passed quickly. Before he knew it Gilbert Blythe was on his way home; Lorelai walked at least twenty paces in front of Gilbert, and arm in arm with Ruby Gillis, who had decided to walk the longer way home that night. 

The girls were laughing about something, though he couldn’t fathom what. He sighed, it would seem that there was very little hope of him talking to her before the night was out. He let out a huff of frigid air and kept walking, his pace quickening in an attempt to hear what the girls were talking about. 

“Do you suppose your grandmother would mind much? What with Anne and Diana and Cole going to that party and all.” Ruby asked, as Gilbert entered earshot.

“I shall ask tonight. I only do not say yes entirely with regard to my unpacking, which I hope to be done tonight, or perhaps the morning.” Lorelai smiled kindly at the smaller girl. “Perhaps she might want to make her scones again.”

Ruby beamed at the suggestion. “I do love those scones.”

 _Don’t we all_. Gilbert thought. His mind jumped back several months to his father’s funeral, where Lorelai’s grandmother had dropped off a basket of them, along with special cream and a pot of her famous, and delicious, homemade jam. 

Gilbert watched Lorelai escort Ruby to the intersection in which she would go left and Lorelai would continue on for a mile. She beamed and waved at the girl as she headed up the hill, and Lorelai along the flat of the road. He quickened his pace once more. Not a few moments later, he was level with her, and she stopped to look at him. 

“You really don’t give up, do you?” Lorelai asked in utter disbelief. 

“Why ought I?” he asked frowning. “I got your letters Lorelai. I thought perhaps-” 

Lorelai cut him off, crossing her arms over her chest. “What exactly did you think, Mr Blythe?”

The cold, sharpness of her voice took him by surprise and he stepped back. His eyes dropping to the floor. His stomach seemed to have been replaced with air. 

“I thought perhaps you cared.” He muttered, his voice cracking slightly. 

It was her turn to step back. “It would not be proper, Mr Blythe.” 

His eyes narrowed at her. “I suppose that is all you are concerned with now, after having it forced at you for so long.” 

Lorelai glared at him. “I will not throw away friends, and my reputation, for you who might just walk away _again_ . Besides, it would be _frowned upon_.” 

She stalked away, leaving him staring after her in stunned silence. He stood there, staring after her, long after she vanished up the lane to her home. His heart racing in his chest and his mind swimming with possibility. 

The next morning, Gilbert dropped a basket of apples at the front door to the Winters’ home and left without knocking. He knew that one of them would find it. When he returned home, Bash was standing in the kitchen. 

“Your lady friend, the one with the letters, is that who you dropped apples for?”

“Lorelai is different.” 

Bash hummed, teasingly. “You know, if you really want to impress the girl,”

Gilbert cut him off. “Lorelai won’t entertain the thought of courting until we are of _the proper age_.”

Bash chuckled. “I suppose you agree with her then?” 

Gilbert sighed. “I will have to.”


	5. The Wedding

The shock of Prissy Andrew’s abandonment of Mr Phillips at the altar, left the community of Avonlea in quite the state, meanwhile Gilbert Blythe was left to mend bridges with Bash, as the seasons changed. 

None of this appeared to have much of a sway on Lorelai’s position on the admittance of Gilbert’s feelings, though he had noticed that she reacted to him more now. Of course he tried his best to control himself around the girls of his class more, as they too seemed to have an effect on the way Lorelai responded to him at times. This he somewhat understood. 

It was the evening after the debacle of Ms Stacy keeping her job, that Gilbert lay awake on his bed. That morning, Lorelai had dropped off scones, cream and jam, as well as several other pastries that Gilbert was only half interested in, and she had accepted his offer to stay for a cup of tea, with the implication of meeting Bash and Mary. 

The whole thing had been a complete success, and she had left at past lunch time, with a cheerful wave at the end of the road. He smiled at the memory. His mind wandering to what she might be doing at that moment: reading, perhaps writing a letter. 

Meanwhile, Lorelai stared out of the window in her bedroom. The book she had been attempting to read for some time now, lay forgotten on the end of her bed. Her eyes lingered on the swaying trees, and the full moon beyond. She ran her fingers over the ribbon she had taken from her hair that evening after washing, and dressing in her night clothes. It was one she had bought in Paris, the fine silk had been used for a dress she had left there. It was also one of a matching set; the other ribbon she had sent tied around one of the many letters she had sent to Gilbert Blythe. 

Her eyes slid from the moon to the silk and then to her bed, where she ought to have been sleeping at the late hour, but her brain was not tired, and so refused to quiet. She stood up from her perch at the window and crossed to her chest of draws, laying the ribbon over the rest, and turning to the bed. 

“What do I do about such a problem?” She whispered as she climbed into bed.

Lorelai stood at her kitchen window, her eyes lingering on Anne Shirley-Cuthbert, who stood by the carriage with Marilla and Matthew. They had stopped to collect Lorelai and Dorothy on their way to the wedding of Bash and Mary. 

Lorelai had spent more time with Mary and her Grandmother recently. In a vain attempt to keep her mind straying to Gilbert Blythe. Of whom had not made the attempt at all successful. 

Lorelai’s eyes wandered over to the table, where, sitting on the table was a vase of stunning wildflowers that Gilbert Blythe had dropped off the day before, along with a promise of a basket of apples once they harvested. In return she had promised him two pots of jam; one strawberry - as he had written to her telling her how much he had missed it while she was in France - and one apple. 

Lorelai sighed, her eyes moving across the room. The wood floor had been scrubbed and waxed. The table covered with a fine lilac cloth, to accent the flowers of Mary’s bouquet, as well as be more presentable when they returned to Avonlea, as Dorothy had offered their home for the gathering and food after the wedding. 

Lorelai’s gaze moved to her Grandmother, as she entered the kitchen. 

“Lorelai, you look beautiful, my dear.” Dorothy gave her granddaughter a fond smile. 

Lorelai smiled softly. “Thank you, Grandmother.”

Lorelai glanced down at the simple check dress she had chosen. It certainly would have been a dress that her Grandmother Walter would turn in her grave had she known she worn in to a wedding; but Mary had chosen it for Lorelai in one of their expeditions to Charlottetown. To match it, Lorelai had chosen to tie her wavy red hair up in a loose ponytail, and hold it with a green ribbon. Stubbornly, a few shorter pieces of hair fell around her face. Due to the changing weather, she had added a knitted brown shawl over the top of her dress, in hopes of not getting too cold on the way to the church.

Together, they exited the house and headed down the freshly swept path, to the awiting Cuthberts. Lorelai greeted them each with a warm hug, before wrapping her shawl tighter around her. 

As if by instinct, Lorelai’s gaze travelled towards the Blythe farm as they rolled down the road towards the church, before she mentally scolded herself, forcing her gaze towards the way they were going. She had been focusing so hard on not thinking about Gilbert, that she found herself doing almost nothing else. 

The carriage rolled to a stop outside the church and Lorelai’s gaze travelled to Bash and Gilbert, standing welcoming everyone. Across the road, Gilbert’s eyes met Lorelai’s and her heart gave an excited lurch. She looked away, instead focusing on the bell at the top of the church steeple. 

“Lorelai, is everything quite alright?” Anne’s hand touched Lorelai’s elbow, shocking the other girl into looking at the red headed, freckled girl in front of her. “You seem most out of sorts. You barely spoke a word the whole way here. It is a most joyous occasion and yet you seem full of sorrow.”

“I’m fine, thank you Anne.”

Anne Shirley-Cuthbert did not look convinced, and continued to chatter away to Lorelai about how weddings filled Anne with such a joy that she felt as though she might never be sad again, as they walked over Bash and Gilbert.

“Lorelai, Anne, Mrs Winters, Mr Cuthbert, Miss Cuthbert.” Bash beamed. “I am overjoyed you all made it!” 

“We wouldn’t miss this for the world.” Anne beamed back at Bash.

Gilbert’s eyes moved from Anne, to Lorelai. He knew she was avoiding him the moment she had turned up at his home the past week, to see Mary, only to find that she had left for the Bog that morning with Bash; Lorelai had promptly left, declining his offer to walk her home.

He attempted to catch her eye, but she turned to face Anne, who looped her arm through Lorelai’s and they headed into the church together. 

“What on earth did you do, boy?” Bash laughed as Gilbert watched the girls took their seats. “It’s like you took three steps forward and ten steps back with that girl.”

Gilbert groaned. “This is your wedding day, we are not talking about my _feelings_ today.”

Bash chuckled. “So they are there then?”

Gilbert shot Bash a dark look. “Don’t make me hit you, _Sebastian_.”

Bash laughed.

Once everyone was seated, Gilbert headed inside with Bash. He took a seat beside Lorelai, who he gave a small smile as he sat down, and turned his attention to Bash, now standing at the front of the church, looking anxiously at the door.

In Lorelai’s opinion, the ceremony was even more beautiful than any other, lavish wedding she had ever been to. The love clearly written all over Mary and Bash’s faces as they exchanged their vows and rings, warmed her heart.

She congratulated the couple after the ceremony, before heading back to the carriage, with her Grandmother and none other than Gilbert Blythe, who hopped into the carriage to help Dorothy up, and then into the front. He offered his hand to Lorelai, who examined his almost pleading face. 

She slipped her hand into his, and allowed him to help her into the carriage. The warmth of his hand, despite her lace gloves, made her heart flutter and she took her seat, her hand slipping out of his. Her gaze lingered on her hand, as she continued to feel his hand in hers, despite the lack of it truly being there. 

He took the reins of the carriage and they set off up the lane, back towards the Winters’ farm, in order to finish setting up all of the food that they had made. Lorelai took a glance over at Gilbert as he drove the horses; her eyes sweeping over the long eyelashes and light irises, down the slope of his nose to the bow of his lips. 

She turned away, feeling her cheeks burning. 

“That was a beautiful ceremony. I can only hope you are as happy on your wedding day.” Dorothy squeezed Lorelai’s shoulder from the back of the carriage. 

Gilbert’s eyes flicked from the road to Lorelai’s face, then back again. Jealousy, for whomever might marry her that wasn’t him, swirled angrily in his chest. He bit the inside of his cheek, drawing blood and the taste of iron filled his mouth.

“I hope so too, Grandmother.” came Lorelai’s reply, cutting through Gilbert’s mind like a hot knife through butter, and he worked to keep himself calm. 

Dorothy, who was watching the stiff posture of Gilbert Blythe’s back and the crimson blush that coloured her granddaughters’ cheeks covered her chuckle with a cough. Her handkerchief covering her smile as Lorelai checked up on her. 

Dorothy shot the younger Winters a wink.

Lorelai turned around, suddenly furious with her Grandmother. 

The carriage rolled to a stop by the barn and Gilbert hopped down from the seat, and offered his hand to Lorelai. She gave him the first smile he had received from her in days. Gilbert couldn’t help the half smile as she took his hand. 

“Thank you.” She mumbled once her feet hit the ground. 

Gilbert nodded, before helping Dorothy down. 

The three of them headed up to the house and set about the final preparations for the arrival of Mary and Bash, of whom would undoubtedly be on their way over with the Cuthberts’ and followed closely by the rest of the guests, including those who lived in the Bog. 

Lorelai arranged the treats on the tables, while Gilbert ensured they were properly placed under her watchful gaze, and carried heavy platters out into their garden. Dorothy stood at the Kitchen window that overlooked the garden, making her lemonade. 

“Those two.” She chuckled, shaking her head as they danced around each other. “If I ever did meet another obliviously in love pair.”

Lorelai finally stood back from the tables, a smile on her face as she took a final look at her creation. As she did so, the Cuthbert’s carriage, complete with the newly married couple rolled to a stop outside the house, with Gilbert there to greet them. 

Lorelai watched for a moment, as Bash said something into Gilbert’s ear, causing them both to throw their heads back in laughter, and Mary to give them each a light slap on their chests, a smile on her face. 

Lorelai took a deep breath and headed over, her eyes travelling to Gilbert. He was standing talking with Anne a few paces from Marilla and Matthew. The two looked as though they were in a world of their own, as though nothing could disturb them. Lorelai’s steps faltered and she changed course, heading straight back into the house.

Her shaking hands clutched at the bodice of her dress and she fought to remember how to breathe. Her head was swimming horribly, and her back hit the wall of her bedroom; though she had no idea how she had gotten up the stairs. Her hand flew out to shut the door. Her knees hit the floor and air rushed back into her lungs. She gulped in all the air she could as she rested her head against the cold wood.

“Lorelai?” A soft voice came from somewhere above her, and then there were two sets of hands pulling her to her feet. 

As things began to clear, Lorelai found herself on the bed. Anne sat behind her holding her hands tightly and Gilbert crouched in front of her on the floor, his face at knee height. 

_Brilliant,_ Lorelai thought bitterly. _Just who I want to see me in this state. Gilbert Blythe._

“Lorelai, are you able to look at me, please.” Gilbert’s hand touched hers.

Lorelai’s eyes met his. Green meeting light grey. 

“I’m fine, _Mr Blythe_.” Lorelai’s voice was strong, which impressed herself. 

Gilbert hid the hurt on his face as he stood up. “I’m sure you are but you haven’t responded to either Anne nor I for the last five minutes.” 

Lorelai’s gaze travelled to Anne’s concerned face and then to Gilbert’s curious face. “It happens sometimes. I’m fine.”

This apparently was not what Gilbert wanted to hear about it, as he looked over at her from where he was standing at the open window. Lorelai frowned; the window almost certainly had not been open when they left this morning. 

“We thought perhaps the fresh air might help you breathe. I find that a breeze or even just cooler air can clear my mind.” Anne rattled off, continuing her chatter as Lorelai zoned out, her eyes fixed on Gilbert, who was brushing his fingers over the silk ribbon on her vanity. 

“Could I please have a moment on my own. I’m sure your presence is notably missing from the party.” Lorelai stood up, testing her legs before she crossed the room and she stopped at the window, glancing down at the chattering guests. “I’ll be along in a moment.”

Anne nodded and made for the door, but Gilbert hesitated for a moment, his eyes fixed on her. Finally, realising that she wasn’t about to look at him, he followed Anne from the room. The door shut quietly behind him. 

Lorelai sank to the floor, forcing back tears as she stared intensely up at the ceiling. 

_One._

_Two._

_Three._

_Four._

_Five._

Finally, Lorelai pushed herself back to her feet, and crossed to the vanity. Her fingers nimbly unlocked the small box on the side with a key from her draw, and she popped a small section of ginger into her mouth. 

She chewed. 

Before she had fully swallowed the ginger, she headed out of the room, brushing the single tear from the corner of her eye. She forced a smile to her face and descended the stairs.

As Lorelai entered the kitchen her forced smile became genuine. Her gaze found Mary, who was beaming by the fire, a glass of lemonade in her hand, while Bash stood just behind her. His hand lingered on her hip, while he listened to Mary converse with Marilla. 

Mary’s eyes found Lorelai and she quickly excused herself from her conversation. She crossed the kitchen and wrapped her arms around Lorelai. 

Lorelai returned the gesture. 

“I am so grateful for what you have done here, Lorelai. It is so beautiful.” Mary couldn’t smile any bigger if she tried, as she pulled away from Lorelai, cupping the young girl’s face in her hands. “If there is anything I can do to repay you, you just let me know.”

Lorelai laughed, wholeheartedly. “You don’t need to do anything other than enjoy today Mary. May it be a wondrous start to your long lives together.”

As Mary and Bash left the Winters’ farm that night, Gilbert sat down at one of the tables. His eyes moved across the people who were beginning to pack away the party, in order to help Lorelai and Dorothy. His eyes found Lorelai, carrying a tray of small cakes and scones into the house, undoubtedly to be packed up and distributed to various attendees. 

He picked up a tray of glasses and followed her into the house. 

“Thank you,” Lorelai mumbled as he set the tray down on the kitchen table. “Do you mind fetching those baskets?”

Gilbert followed her finger, to the stack of baskets that were piled in the spare bedroom, the door open for people to leave their shawls and coats due to the warm afternoon weather. He picked up several, and set them on the table, before helping her set various goods in each basket. 

They worked in mostly silence as they packed baskets with cakes and jars of lemonade - Dorothy having made so much knowing how popular it would be - and covering them carefully with the towels people had brought with their baskets.

Once everything was packed away and people had left, Gilbert sat on the porch to the Winters’ house. Dorothy had offered him their spare room, that Mary and Bash might have the house to themselves on their wedding night, and he had accepted. 

Dorothy took the towel from her granddaughter, who had been drying dishes, and nodded to Gilbert. “Go see him, Lorelai.”

Lorelai picked up two glasses from the cabinet, poured generous helpings of lemonade into each and then headed out to the porch. She sat down beside Gilbert and offered the glass to him. He took it with a mumbled ‘thank you’, still staring out across to the barn.

Lorelai took a sip of the drink in her hands. “I’m sorry I snapped at you earlier.”

Gilbert chuckled. “I understand why you did.”

“That doesn’t make it right.”

Gilbert looked over at her, tracing the outline of her face with his eyes. “Accepting your apology makes _us_ right though.”

Lorelai bowed her head. “I feel as though I’ve done so much that was rude towards you, recently, that no matter how many times I apologise, it would never be enough.”

Gilbert set his glass on the porch beside him, and twisted his body to face her. The action made her look up. He stuck his hand out. 

“Good evening, Miss. I’m Gilbert Blythe.”

Lorelai gave him a confused look. “I know who you are, Gilbert.”

“I’m starting again, a clean slate as some might say.”

Lorelai raised her eyebrows. “I’m Lorelai Winters.” She slipped her hand into his and he pulled her up to stand. He shook her hand, properly, and then offered her his arm. 

“Might I escort you back inside, Miss Lorelai?”

Lorelai couldn’t contain her laughter any longer, and she threw her head back. He chuckled softly, and then shook his head, the smile still in place. His heart swelling in his chest as she held onto him. 

They picked up their glasses and she guided him to the seat on the porch, not ready to go back inside yet. 

“So, do you want to talk about earlier?” He asked, softly.

Lorelai glanced at him, then back at the open doorway. “No, not really.”

Gilbert nodded. 

They sat quietly for a while, enjoying one another’s presence, as the sun set beyond the hills in the distance. Eventually, as the temperature dropped, they two young people headed into the house. Lorelai took a seat beside the fire in her Grandmother’s rocking chair at one side, while Gilbert took the chair on the other side, where Lorelai’s grandfather had once sat. Gilbert sat reading, while Lorelai knitted. 

Dorothy Winters, who had been sipping her tea, watched them intrigued from her spot at the table. The letter she had been writing, in front of her, forgotten.

Gilbert was the first to retire for the night; leaving Lorelai and Dorothy in the kitchen. 

“He is a sweet boy.” Dorothy nodded to the chair Gilbert had vacated.

“Grandmother.” Lorelai warned, her eyes flicking to the closed door off the kitchen, where Gilbert could, without a doubt, hear them. 

Dorothy sighed. “Lorelai, you must make up that mind of yours. I know you are trying to protect your heart, but someday, you will be married. Make sure you marry someone who cherishes your heart as you do, when you do.”

“I am not thinking about such things. Grandmother.”

“Tell that to your heart, Lorelai.” With that, Dorothy walked out of the kitchen and into her room down the corridor, across from the parlour, leaving Lorelai staring after her in disbelief.


	6. Take Notice

The next morning, Lorelai rose early, completed her chores and was making breakfast when Gilbert emerged from his bedroom. His eyes fell on Lorelai, wearing her everyday dress, the sleeves pushed up to her elbows, an apron tied around her waist and her hair tied into a bun. 

Gilbert Blythe's heart raced. He had always thought she looked prettiest like that, though he still treasured the photograph of her; beautifully made up and in her most elegant ball gown. She had sent it to him so long ago, he wondered if she remembered it. He wondered if those letters meant anything to her; if she still had his. 

Her eyes travelled over his clean white shirt, tucked into grey pants and braces over his shoulders. His hair was tousled, as though he hadn’t combed it since the day before. He still had a half sleepy look on his face. 

Lorelai Winters' stomach clenched. This look, early in the morning and still half asleep, she had never considered, but it was rapidly becoming her most favourite version of Gilbert Blythe. Her thought moved to the letters, still hidden in her room; each one written to her, for her eyes only. Each one telling her of his hearts desires and his treasured memories. Each letter carefully thought out, and sent. She could tell when he had written them too, if they had been written in patches or snatches of time with his jumbled thoughts. Or, late at night and he would cross out spellings and apologize in a separate note. Or even, early in the morning, when he wrote of the sunrise over the sea, wishing to share it. She wondered if, inside, he was still that same person anymore, or if he had closed off that part of himself to her.

“Good morning.” He yawned.

“Good morning. I trust you slept well.” 

Gilbert hummed. “I did, thank you.”

Lorelai set plates of hot muffins and pancakes on the table beside the bowls of eggs, bacon, steak and potatoes already steaming there. Then she set the pot of freshly ground coffee on the table and offered him a seat. 

“Grandmother won’t be joining us for breakfast, but Mary and Bash will be along soon. They did say to start without them if they weren’t here before it was all ready.” 

Gilbert stared at her for a long moment, in awe, as she plated up a portion of food, and she vanished into the hall. She returned a moment later, without the plate and sat down. 

“Eat!” She laughed. 

Gilbert helped himself to a bit of everything, watching her do the same. He had just dug into the food when there was a knock at the door. He jumped up, motioning for Lorelai to stay seated, and he opened the door. 

“Good morning.” Bash grinned at him.

Gilbert stepped aside, letting them into the house and took their coats. He hung them on the rack beside the door and Lorelai stood to greet Mary and Bash in turn, before encouraging them to join them at the table. 

Usual chatter broke out as they ate, and Lorelai found herself enjoying the feeling of company at the breakfast table. Her heart lightened immeasurably as she dug into the crispy bacon. 

“You can cook!” Bash moaned, appreciatively as he tore into the muffins. 

“You will most certainly have to show me to cook these.” Mary nodded, helping herself to more muffins. 

Lorelai chuckled. “I’m sure I can do that.”

Gilbert feigned a wounded look. “You’ll show Mary your recipes, but not me?” 

Lorelai laughed. “I’m not sharing our family scone recipe with you, Gilbert Blythe.”

“You might not, but I will.” Dorothy winked at Gilbert as she set her plate in the sink. 

Lorelai shot a look none at the table could read at her Grandmother, who patted the young Winters on the head, before helping herself to coffee. 

“The trick is to make sure Lorelai is in the best possible mood, and she’ll do almost anything.” Dorothy smirked at her granddaughter, who flushed a rosy pink, and helped herself to more eggs. “I once saw her agree, of her own volition, to visit Paris.”

Lorelai let out the breath he had been holding and kept her eyes on her plate, avoiding the curious look Gilbert was giving her about the colour of her cheeks. 

Once everyone had finished their breakfast, Mary helped Lorelai clear up, while Gilbert went out to split wood, as a thank you for hosting him, and Bash went out to feed the animals. Dorothy sat at the table, reading a book. 

“I see that whatever awkwardness between Gilbert and you has been resolved.” Mary glanced at Lorelai as she washed the dishes. Her eyes scanned the younger girl’s face. Gauging her reaction. “Gilbert seems happier too.”

Lorelai glanced at Mary. “We talked last night.” 

“He mentioned, when we came in.” Mary glanced towards the door. “He’s a sweet boy.”

Lorelai glanced towards her Grandmother, while setting a plate on the pile to be put away. Dorothy Winters winked at her granddaughter. Lorelai felt her cheeks burn, and turned to Mary, her eyes bright. She turned to put the plates in the cabinet.

“He _is_ sweet. In the future maybe something could happen, if he could feel the same way, but we are too young. We shouldn’t even be talking about this sort of thing, it is improper.” Lorelai finally turned to look back at Mary, but when she turned, Mary was staring at the door. 

Lorelai knew immediately who was standing in the doorway, without looking. 

Lorelai turned.

Gilbert Blythe was staring at her. His arms piled with firewood and his eyes burning. His dark hair was pushed back, probably from him running his fingers through it. His usually light eyes seemed to darken, sparkling with what could be anger, or perhaps frustration. He moved into the room, set the wood down and left without a word. 

Lorelai watched his retreating back as he vanished down the lane. 

Her eyes burned with unshed tears. “He’s also an idiot.”

Mary sent Lorelai a sympathetic look. “Someday, he’ll know. Someday he might even do something about it.”

“Someday, when we’re old enough, or someday when it is too late?” Lorelai asked, the hurt clear in her voice. 

Months passed.

Seasons changed and passed.

Lorelai sat on the end of her bed. Her eyes on the reflection in her mirror, considering the likelihood of a haircut. Her long hair now reached the bottom of her waist and it was thicker than ever. Her eyelashes had somewhat darkened over the last few months and her eyes seemed brighter than usual. She was still as short as ever, but she felt more well proportioned. 

She took a deep breath. 

It was their first day back at school since harvest time, and this year, as they were now all of the appropriate age, they could begin to think about courting. Inevitably, this would be the start of the girlish giggling and all loss of composure to some girls. It would also mark the start of the boys becoming more involved in social circles. 

Lorelai moved to the door of her room and she glanced around.

Her eyes lingered on the made bed, which she had straightened. The clear desk sat under her window, which was closed. Her bookshelf was ordered alphabetically and her Bible lay on the bedside table. 

She headed out of the house and up the lane, unable to shake the nerves. 

She hadn’t seen much of Gilbert. Everytime she went over to the house to see Mary and Bash he was ‘out’. She hadn’t spoken to him since that fateful morning after Mary and Bash’s wedding, and Mary felt awful about it. Lorelai knew that Mary had tried to talk to Gilbert about it, but he had walked out and slept in the barn, in order to avoid the conversation. 

Over the last few months he had also been spending more time in Charlottetown, with his doctor training. He went each week. 

Lorelai arrived at the school and was immediately greeted by the girls of her class. 

“I don’t suppose anyone knows much about boys, do they?” Ruby sighed. “Particularly, Gilbert.”

Lorelai resisted the urge to either roll her eyes, or punch the smaller girl. 

Gilbert, it seemed was on his apprenticeship that day, as he did not appear.

Meanwhile Lorelai’s expectations appeared to be right. The girls, except Anne, giggled at everything the boys did that day, and Josie Pye had forced them to play some kind of kissing game, of which Lorelai had watched from her desk, over the top of her book, in a state of shock. 

“How was your day, Lorelai?” Dorothy asked her granddaughter over dinner that evening. 

Lorelai gave her a deadpanned look. “Worse than I could ever imagine.”

Lorelai’s grandmother chuckled. “What made it so terrible?”

“I think over the holiday, all of the girl’s brains just melted; completely turned to mush!” Lorelai thought about it for a moment. “Well, except maybe Anne, she seemed to be the only one that hadn’t gone crazy. More so than usual anyways.”

Dorothy laughed. “Yes, that girl has a certain imagination, and a way with words.”

Lorelai nodded. “She’s lovely, but sometimes too much. I wouldn’t be without her.”

“Is she still ignoring Gilbert?”

Lorelai nodded, her mouth full of potato. 

That night, Lorelai lay awake. Her mind returning once again to Gilbert Blythe. Her heart aching in her chest as she watched the flames of the candle on her bedside table. She wondered if he even knew how she really felt. It seemed absurd that he wouldn’t, and yet, every time anyone even mentioned anything about courting, he was out of the room in seconds. Of course he hadn’t paid any mind to the fact she had outright said how she felt.

 _Perhaps he just doesn’t feel the same way._ She thought sadly. _Perhaps he was embarrassed at her feelings, and to spare her, he was giving her space to move on._

Tears welled in Lorelai’s eyes, and she quickly blew out the candle and rolled away, pressing her face into the pillow.

The next morning, Lorelai washed the damage from her crying off her face, dressed and headed down the stairs, to complete her chores. Once she had eaten, she headed off to school. Her stomach swirling with nerves as she approached the door to the school. 

She pushed open the door, and her eyes immediately fell on Gilbert. He was standing with Anne. Lorelai forced her eyes to the peg, where she hung her hat and coat. Her heart hammering from the nerves. 

“I’m not sure if you’re aware, but the old take notice board is active again.”

“Take notice?” Gilbert asked, curiously.

“Yes.” Anne stammered. “Of someone. As in you post on the board when you want to let someone know that you’ve taken notice. It is a way to make a casual declaration. A quiet attention.”

“Too someone you like.” Gilbert answered slowly.

Lorelai could picture his face, intrigued and mildly confused. His messy hair falling all over his forehead. That crease between his eyes. 

“Yes.” Anne nodded, promptly. “Not so pointed as to be alarming and not so vague as to be understood.”

“A post in advance of a proper advance.” Gilbert nodded. 

Lorelai couldn’t help the sinking feeling in her stomach at the intrigue in his voice, and her eyes flicked to Ruby, who was attempting to not look too hopeful about the whole situation. Her heart rate began to rise, though she couldn’t decide if it was anger, jealousy or hurt.

“Exactly.” Anne sounded pleased. “Because all these little notices matter when you want someone to know you’re thinking ahead.”

“To their future together?”

Lorelai didn’t miss the intensity that rippled through Gilbert, and a cold feeling settled over her skin. 

_He likes someone, someone that likely isn’t me_. She thought. 

“Yes.” Anne sounded almost breathless. 

“So,” Gilbert’s voice and the choice of his next words were careful. “You’re suggesting I post?” 

“If you’re interested in Ruby, let her know before someone else stakes their claim.” Anne said quickly.

Gilbert didn’t answer for a moment. “Thank you… for the suggestion, but I’m...not exactly a _Take Notice_ kind of guy. And when the right person comes along, someday, whenever that is, I’ll know.”

Lorelai didn’t look up as Anne walked back over to Ruby, instead she opened her reading book and pretended to look busy. Her heart was pounding in her chest and she was too hot. Her mind felt as though someone had shaken it, like she shook milk into butter. 

“Did you see his face? Ruby asked excitedly. 

Lorelai immediately knew where the blonde was going, and tuned her out. She didn’t know what his face looked like, and something inside her told her she didn’t want to. She forced her tears away as best she could, and discreetly wiped away what she couldn’t, not taking her eyes off the blurry page. 

Gilbert’s grey eyes drifted across the classroom, from where he stood, to the redhead seated at the back of the class. Her head bowed over the book she was reading and the loose strands of her hair shielding the majority of her face from view. He sighed softly. 

He dropped the book he had been reading onto his desk and glanced over at Charlie, who was watching Ruby from the doorway. He resisted the urge to throw a wad of paper at him, to snap him out of his Ruby-centric trance, and glanced around the room. 

He had been in love so long, he wasn’t facing the novelty of it all. He had trouble getting her to see it. He was beyond _Take Notice_ boards and giggling across the room. He needed to do something drastic. 

Admittedly the distance he had put between himself and Lorelai wasn’t going to help, but he had considered that it might help; some space, in dulling the pain when she eventually rejected him for whatever boy she truly wanted to be with, if not him.

He had heard the way she had scolded her grandmother that night, at the wedding, suggesting that he might be a possible suitor. He had heard the way she had giggled with Mary about the unnamed male, and told her that she might agree, when they were able to.

His heart ached.


	7. Mary

Lorelai walked behind Gilbert that afternoon. Her mind wandered to Delphine Lacroix, who had been born to Mary and Bash only a few months ago. Lorelai had spent as much time with Delly as she could, without intruding, though Mary had been clear in the fact that Lorelai was more help than hindrance and so could join them at Blythe farm as much as she wanted. 

Lorelai glanced up the road to Gilbert, who was walking a few paces in front of her now, his slow pace allowing her to catch up to him. She considered slowing down, but she knew that would only cause more problems for them both, and besides, she wanted to make sure he knew she was going to be there, at his home, that evening to give Mary and Bash some time out of the house, together. 

“Gilbert,” Lorelai bit her lip nervously. He looked up at her voice, his eyes meeting hers. “I wanted to let you know that I had offered to look after Delphine for a few hours tonight.”

Gilbert nodded. “I know. Mary mentioned it to me last night.”

Lorelai glanced down. They had hit the forest part of their journey and the school was no longer in view. Her shorter hairs fell into her face and as she looked up, Gilbert chuckled. She watched his eyes ran over the strands, as he smiled softly. 

“Mary wanted to know if I was ready to talk to her, or better yet you, about the morning after the wedding.”

“We don’t have to talk about it, if you would prefer not to.”

Lorelai knew immediately that she had, once again, put her foot in it, preverbially. Gilbert’s face darkened considerably and he moved to walk away. He hand shot out to stop him but he had already turned to look at her. His eyes shot down to her hand and she withdrew. 

He looked as though he was going to say something, but thought better of it. He took a deep breath. “Lorelai,” he paused. “For so long, I’ve struggled with this, and it has never been the right time.”

“I understand.” She took a deep breath. “Things have been said, between us and about us, that complicate everything. It is okay for you to say that you don’t want to deal with any of this, even if it is just for right now.”

Gilbert gave Lorelai a confused look, but she wasn’t looking at him. 

Lorelai walked ahead, leaving him staring after her. 

By the time he had figured out what he should do, that perhaps  _ taking notice _ could be done verbally, she was gone. He sighed, knowing that the opportunity was now gone and there was a good chance that they would not get to talk properly later. 

“Good one Blythe; you blew it.  _ Again _ .” Gilbert cursed himself, before setting off once more, homebound.

When Gilbert arrived home, Mary and Bash were already gone. Lorelai was sitting at the kitchen table; Delly asleep in her arms and Lorelai was doing homework. He smiled softly, setting his bag on the side and was suddenly struck with a thought. 

Only the thought was wiped from his head the moment Marilla Cuthbert walked into the kitchen from the parlour, her white apron in place and her box of cleaning products in hand. She took one look at his dirty boots and chased him from the kitchen with her cleaning cloth. 

Lorelai watched the door close behind her and glanced up at Marilla, who had been sent to  _ chaperone _ , despite the lack of courtship between the two young folk.

Marilla cooked for the three of them, and while Gilbert and Marilla ate, Lorelai tended to Delly’s needs for attention, walking around the kitchen in circles around the table. Once finished, Gilbert stood and moved closer to Lorelai and Delly.

“Hey baby girl, are you going to come to Uncle Gilbert while Aunty Lorelai eats her dinner?” Gilbert cooed over the baby, grinning as widely as he could. 

Delphine smiled back, her eyes transfixed upon his face. She still chewed on her hands around the smile.

Lorelai held her out for him, and he took her. His fingers brushed Lorelai’s as he took the baby and their eyes met over her head. Lorelai swallowed hard; unable to look away. 

Gilbert cradled the baby and then made a face. “Delly, you waited for me to take you before you pooped? Really?” 

Without looking back at Lorelai, he turned and headed into Mary and Bash’s room, to change the young baby. His heart aching and his fingers still tingling from the contact with Lorelai’s. 

“Delly, what is your Uncle Gilbert going to do?” He asked the baby softly. “Your dad says I need to man up. And your mum, well she says that I need to be clear when I do something about my feelings.”

The baby cooed.

“You think?”

Meanwhile in the kitchen, Lorelai had dug into her dinner. She attempted to keep her eyes on her plate, as Gilbert entered the room once more, Delly almost asleep, cradled in his arms. 

Once she finished her dinner, Lorelai set about clearing up, while Marilla took a seat by the fire. Lorelai set a kettle of water to boil, while she dried the pots and put them away and then made each of them a cup of tea. 

“Thank you.” Gilbert mumbled as she set one in front of him, watching her sit down beside him at the table, her fingers brushing over Delly’s head softly. 

“No problem.” She mumbled back, a calmness settling over her as she watched the baby breathing. 

Marilla watched them for a moment, before turning her attention to the book she had open in her hands, feeling as though she was spying on a private, very intimate moment. Her eyes flicked back to the young people, still bowed over the baby. 

Marilla Cuthbert noted the way they both had small smiles on their faces, as they watched Delly. They both also had their sleeves pushed up to their elbows - in Gilbert’s case he had been changing the baby, meanwhile Lorelai had done the dishes and neither had rolled them down again since.

She also noticed the way every now and again, Gilbert would glance Lorelai’s way, as if checking she were still there, despite her hand being on the baby’s head. She noted the way Lorelai would lean back as she drank her tea; her eyes on Gilbert, the way he held the baby, and a small smile would form on her face. 

Neither appeared to care, or notice, Marilla’s existence. 

The next morning, Lorelai woke to find herself in her own bedroom. Unsure as to how she got there, she sat up, spotting her boots lying, tidily by the door to her bedroom, and she still wore her dress from the previous day, though she did note it was looser than she would wear it at any given moment. 

“Good morning, Lorelai.” Dorothy smiled kindly at her granddaughter, as she entered the kitchen. 

“Good morning, Grandmother.” Lorelai mumbled. 

“Gilbert carried you home last night. Marilla is asleep in their spare room. He thought to leave you at his home and stay here, but thought you might be less impressed waking up in a strange bed, particularly one of a boy.”

Lorelai’s mind wandered to last night. She had been watching Delly one moment, and her tired eyes had closed. 

“He carried me here?” 

Dorothy hummed. “At first I thought something had happened, but he explained that Bash and Mary had returned home late, and were sitting talking, when they turned around, both you and Marilla were fast asleep.” 

Lorelai’s face burnt, embarrassed. “I am so sorry Grandmother, I should have been more careful. What if I had been taking care of Delly alone?” 

“Child, all parents understand, we’ve all fallen asleep looking after our children.” Dorothy smiled at Lorelai. “We nap when the child sleeps.”

Lorelai nodded. “I should still apologize, especially to Gilbert.”

That day, Lorelai had no chance to talk to Gilbert, especially alone as she wished to, and so caught him on the way home. They walked a few metres apart, but together. He laughed at her apology, telling her it wasn’t at all necessary, in fact that he had enjoyed caring for the baby with her. 

Gilbert looked over at Lorelai as they neared the edge of the forest, his eyes moving over the way she hopped up on fallen trees and large boulders with ease, as they walked. He smiled softly as she managed to get ahead of him, and she hopped back on to the path. 

“Come on slowpoke, at this rate, it'll take you all night to get home.”

Gilbert laughed. “What has you in such a good mood today?”

“I slept well.” She winked at him. 

Gilbert grinned at her. “I’m glad.”

“I heard from one of the girls that Mrs Lynde will be teaching us  _ dancing _ soon.” she said falling back into step with him.

“Are you excited about that?” He teased her.

She gave him a look of disapproval. “Dancing is a  _ serious _ business, or at least  _ Grandmother Walter _ would say so.” Lorelai’s nose wrinkled slightly. “She made me take dancing lessons while I was in Paris. I told you I scared away three of my tutors in a week?” She bounced up the path in front of him and turned to face him, a devilish grin on her face. 

Gilbert laughed. “Of course you did, and it had to be dance tutors.”

Lorelai grinned. “It did indeed. They deserved it too.”

“How so?” 

“They tried to teach me  _ dancing _ .” The way she said it, made it seem scandalous, and caused both of them to laugh once more. “Honestly? I was more interested in  _ trying _ to look the fool, and apparently they took themselves  _ very _ seriously.”

Gilbert smiled. “I like that about you.”

Lorelai’s heart soared.

Lorelai stood on the porch of her home, the lemonade in her hands a refreshing break from the dirty work of machine repairing. Her eyes were on the barn, as she thought about the way in which she could fix the carriage wheel, which was her next job of the day. 

They had lent it to one of the folks from the next town to get their shopping from Charlottetown - as they couldn’t afford the train - and appealed for help. They had returned the carriage, with three spokes missing and a large dent in the wood around the middle. She knew that the worst case would be that they would have to replace the wheel, if she couldn’t tighten it back up, but she would rather try than wasted money.

Movement on the path caught her attention and she turned. Running up the path, at full sprint, was Gilbert Blythe. Lorelai set the glass on the shoe rack and darted out to meet him.

“It’s Mary, she’s sick.” Gilbert panted. “She’s got sepsis, the doctor came out this morning.”

Lorelai nodded, her eyes brimming with tears, and she took his hand. “We’re going to figure this out Gilbert. Right now, you need to go and be with Mary, Bash and Delly. My Grandmother and I will bring you some dinner and come and help.”

“Mary’s friends from the Bog are their now.” Gilbert sniffed. “Lorelai, I had to explain to Mary that there was nothing we could do.” His voice broke.

Lorelai felt as though she had been punched in the stomach. Her arms wrapped around Gilbert’s neck, pulling him closer to her. His face buried into the crook of her neck as he wrapped his arms tightly around her waist. 

“We’re going to get through this, Gilbert.” Lorelai promised. “I’ll be right beside you the whole time, okay?”

Gilbert nodded into her neck and hiccupped. “I can’t do this without you Lorelai.”

Lorelai tightened her arms around him. “You don’t need to.”

They finally broke apart and Lorelai pulled Gilbert up to the house. With a brief explanation to Dorothy, over a cup of hot coffee, the two women set about making lunch and dinner. Gilbert sat at the table, his face in his hands and his shoulders shaking; the only evidence he was crying. 

Lorelai squeezed his shoulder with one hand as they were layering up the baskets with vast amounts of food, and Gilbert finally looked up, his eyes scanning the various baskets and then Lorelai’s face.

“Thank you, both of you.” Gilbert spoke weakly, but he was steady as he stood up. “We should get back.”

Lorelai nodded as she picked up several baskets. 

They arrived back at Blythe homestead to find that Mary’s friends were still there. They sat at the kitchen table, both looking sad. Marilla and Anne were there too, and it looked as though they had been cooking. 

Lorelai set the baskets of food on the table and went with Gilbert to see Mary; Dorothy giving them some time, as she lingered in the kitchen, striking up a conversation with Marilla. Though she watched them head up the corridor.

“Mary,” Lorelai sighed softly as they entered the room. “I hope you’re comfortable.”

Mary motioned for Lorelai to sit beside her on the bed, and Lorelai sat. Mary took Lorelai’s hands tightly, and Lorelai became aware of the fever she had. Her hands were slick with sweat, though she shivered uncontrollably.

“Mary, I’m going to take away these blankets and fetch you some water.” Lorelai told her, catching Gilbert’s eyes. He stood from the seat beside the bed as Lorelai got up, and Mary protested as they rolled the blankets down to the end of the bed. “You’ve got a fever. You’re dehydrating and you most certainly aren’t cold. Trust me.”

Tears fell from Mary’s eyes. “I have a request of the both of you.”

Lorelai sat back down and shot Gilbert a curious look, who looked equally intrigued. 

“I need you to collect Delphine for me, from Matthew Cuthbert. If I am going to die, I want to spend every last moment with my baby, and my husband that I can. He refuses to leave the farm.”

“We’ll go at once.” Gilbert took Mary’s other hand and squeezed, meeting Lorelai’s eyes. 

Lorelai nodded. 

“Thank you, both of you.” Mary wept. 

“You need to drink though.” Lorelai said sternly, “At least two glasses before we get back.”

Mary nodded.

The two stood up, but Mary held Gilbert’s hand tightly. Lorelai noticed the movement and shut the door behind her.

“Gilbert, promise me that when you do marry, that it be for love.” Mary was looking up at him with a mothering look, filled with love. “I know you love Lorelai, but you  _ must _ do something about it, before it is too late.”

Gilbert pressed a kiss to Mary’s hands. “I will, Mary. I promise.”

Mary smiled. “She’s a wonderful girl.”

“I know.” Gilbert grinned. “I’ve been quite taken with her for some time, if you remember.”

Mary laughed. “Oh I have heard.”

Gilbert chuckled.

Gilbert, Lorelai and Anne set out in the carriage as soon as Gilbert had exited the room, sending Bash in as he passed through the kitchen, with the promise of being back soon. The carriage ride was much quicker than it usually was; Gilbert encouraging the horses to trot the whole way up to Green Gables.

Lorelai sprang from the carriage before Gilbert had fully brought it to a stop and she raced up the road to the house. Matthew meeting her on the doorstep. 

“You could come too, if you like?” Lorelai offered. “There will be more than enough food.”

Matthew shook his head. “I’m sure that there are enough people at the house. Marilla and Anne can tell me how Mary if doing when they get home.”

Gilbert took Delly, while Lorelai climbed back into the carriage, and then handed her back as Lorelai settled in. His hands brushing the top of the baby’s head before he picked up the reins again and urged the horse back down the road.

When they arrived back at Gilbert’s home, Lorelai and Anne headed into the house while Gilbert went to put away the carriage and horse. He was just heading back up to the house, when Anne came out onto the porch. 

“Is everything okay in there?” Gilbert asked, looking up at Anne as he ascended the steps.

Anne nodded. “Lorelai and Marilla are talking with Josephine about making something for Delly, to remember her mother by.” Anne glanced back towards the kitchen. “I suggested a book of all her recipes.”

“That would be a great idea!” Gilbert smiled. “I’m sure Delly would appreciate that very much.” 

Anne nodded. “Mary asked me about what she should do for Delly, so that she knew she was loved by Mary.”

Gilbert frowned. “Delly would always know that.”

Anne gave him a look he couldn’t decipher. “I suggested that Mary write her a letter. She was wondering if you had any paper.”

Gilbert thanked Anne and headed into the house, upstairs to his room. He opened the large trunk and pulled out several sheets of his nicest paper, and his best pen and ink. He took a deep breath, and headed down to Mary’s room. 

He knocked.

“Come in!” Bash called. 

Gilbert opened the door and held up the writing equipment. “I heard you wanted these.”

Mary gave him a grateful look. “I appreciate this Gilbert, really I do.”

Gilbert smiled. “It’s alright, honestly.”

Delly cooed as he set the writing things on the tray over Mary’s legs and he brushed a finger over her cheek. She smiled, her dark eyes transfixed on him. She caught his finger with her hands and held on. 

“She likes you, doesn’t she?”

“I should hope so, I am quite fond of her.” 

Bash laughed. “We all are.”

Gilbert gave them a smile, and left them to their business. He sat down at the table and Lorelai set a cup of tea in front of him. He gave her a nod of appreciation and wrapped his hands around the teacup.

“I don’t suppose anyone has made any arrangements, for after Mary leaves us?” Mrs Lynde asked softly. “I only ask, as I can have a word with our Minister.”

“That would be appreciated, thank you Mrs Lynde.” Bash’s voice came from the doorway to the kitchen. “Gilbert has allowed for us to bury her in the family plot.” 

“We can make the rest of the arrangements, after she goes, if you would prefer it.” Marilla said, putting her hand on Bash’s arm. “I understand it must be very hard for you.”

Bash nodded, before heading back into the bedroom, to his wife. 

“I have an idea, that would make Mary so happy.” Josephine piped up, looking around at the faces now watching her. “One Mary has always wished to happen.”

The next few days were a flurry of preparations. 

Mary left the world in the night. Peacefully. 

That morning, Gilbert went straight over to the Winters’. His heart broken and he knew he wanted to just be with Lorelai, if she would allow it. 

It only took one glance for Lorelai to know what had happened, and she flung her arms around him, holding him tightly as the tears came. He was powerless to stop them, as he wrapped his arms tightly around her. She sobbed into his chest, while they held one another. 

Dorothy sat in the armchair by the fire, tears running freely down her face, unable to watch them. 

Lorelai finally pulled away from Gilbert and sat him down in one of the chairs at the table. Her hands moved to take his and he rested his forehead on her hands. His heart ached, but a small part of him enjoyed the comfort she gave him, as each of them came to terms with Mary’s death. 

They headed up to Gilbert’s farm to find Bash - who had asked Gilbert for some space - sitting on the steps to the house. Delly was curled into his chest, and the tear stains on her red face told them she had screamed herself to sleep. Bash allowed Gilbert to take Delly, while Lorelai and Dorothy heaved him to his feet and ushered him into the house. They sat at the table, the basket of vegetables lying on the centre of the table. 

“I want to bury her tomorrow.” Bash announced, his voice showing his broken heart.

Lorelai nodded. “I’ll make the preparations.” 

Gilbert watched her, as she got up from the table and headed down to the room where Mary lay. 

Four hours later, Lorelai re-emerged from the room, the bucket of water she had used to clean Mary’s body in her hands, and Gilbert opened the door for her, to take the bucket outside. She paid him no attention, but he noticed the tear stains on her face. 

His heart broke all over again.

That night, dinner was a sombre affair. Lorelai had spent all afternoon spreading the word of Mary’s death and letting people know they were saying their goodbyes, and burying her, the next day. 

Gilbert watched her as she prodded the stew with the end of her spoon, uninterested. 

He resisted the urge to reach out across the table and take her hand.

The next morning Lorelai arrived at Gilbert’s home dressed in her funeral wear. Her hat sat on the top of her head, pinned into place, while the black lace gloves were held in her hands, since she had been wringing her hands painfully all morning and didn’t want to damage the fragile fabric - as Mary would have scolded her for it, had she been there. 

Dorothy knocked on the door, and it opened to reveal Marilla and Anne, both wearing their funeral dress. Dorothy gave them both a one armed hug, while Lorelai barely registered their existence. 

“She hasn’t said a word since she got back from telling everyone about Mary.” Dorothy sighed, watching her granddaughter. 

Lorelai stood in the corner of the room, Delly in her arms, and Gilbert standing beside her. Neither one spoke as Delly clutched their fingers in her tiny hands. The baby seemed to ground them, as they grieved.

“We’re ready for you.” The town minister announced, proceeding them all out of the house.

The next week seemed to pass in a blur. Lorelai spent almost every waking moment at the Blythe homestead. Dorothy cooked and cleaned for them, while Lorelai and Gilbert cared for Delly, when Bash went to ‘clear his mind’. Gilbert would go out every evening to split wood, while Lorelai would bathe Delly, and Dorothy would take the baby when Bash retired for the night, so that Lorelai and Gilbert might have time to deal with their emotions.

Finally, over a fortnight after the funeral, Lorelai seemed to come to terms with the loss, and she headed out of the house, leaving Gilbert with Delly while Dorothy tended the laundry. Lorelai headed out to the field in between Gilbert’s farm and her own and picked a huge bunch of wild flowers. 

She sent the flowers in a vase in the centre of the table, and then hauled the bathtub into the kitchen. Gilbert watched her as she worked, boiling and emptying kettles of water into the bath. Once it was full, she tested the water and whirled around to the corridor. 

Bash hadn’t left his room that day, in fact, it was no longer unusual for him not to leave his room except to go on his walks. 

Lorelai burst into his room and hauled him, out of the bed, and out into the kitchen. 

“Bathe, shave, eat and get dressed.” Lorelai ordered, setting a plate of food in front of both Bash and Gilbert. “ _ Both of you. _ ”

With that, she picked up the pile of clothes she had taken to mend off the bench and headed out to the porch. Dorothy followed her out of the house a moment later, armed with a basket of clean washing to be hung on the line to dry. 

The two men did as they were ordered by the stern redhead, before Bash opened the door to the porch, where the two women were sat, their heads bent over separate items of clothing, and their attention entirely focused on the careful mending of the clothes. 

“You can come back in, when you are ready.” Bash told them. 

Lorelai looked up from the cuff of a shirt she had been working on, and her eyes ran over Bash’s face. He had cleaned up, changed his clothes, trimmed his beard and was now looking much better than he had only an hour before. 

“I’m sorry, for being so absent.” Bash said as the women set the mended clothing on the table.

Lorelai shot him an understanding look. “It is quite alright, and very understandable. But, the world does not stop for anyone. You have a daughter to think about and it won’t do to shut down any longer.” 

Gilbert reentered the kitchen, setting his towel in the basket to be laundered, along with his old clothes and Bash’s towel and clothes. His eyes lingered on Lorelai, who was watching him.

Lorelai knew she was staring. But she couldn’t summon up the will power to look away. Gilbert’s damp hair had already begun to curl, and in places stuck up, as though he had made an attempt to dry it with a towel, but not combed it afterwards. His shirt fit snuggly, the buttons at the front almost straining around his broad chest, and his braces were in place over his shoulders, only emphasising the broadness. 

She forced her gaze away. 

“Mary would want us to carry on, without her.” Gilbert agreed with Lorelai.

“No matter how hard that may be.” Bash sighed, picking up his daughter. “Thank you, Lorelai, for everything. Really.” 


	8. Three Little Words

The following month dragged by. 

Things slowly returned to normal after Mary’s death. Lorelai and Gilbert began to study for their college entrance exams. The both of them applying for both Queens, and the University of Toronto. Him to study Medicine, and her to study midwifery. 

One afternoon, as they returned from lunch, Lorelai noted the absence of desks in the front of the classroom. Her eyes met Gilbert’s across the classroom and they both hid their laughter. 

Mrs Lynde had brought four others with her to the dancing lesson; which Miss Stacy announced was for the barn dance. They formed a circle and Mrs Lynde turned to the class, with the instruction of clapping out the beat, so that they might see what they were expected to do, before they had to _do_ it.

They split into two groups of six, and Lorelai met Gilbert’s gaze across their circle. He gave her a knowing look and shook his head slightly. She looked away, taking Charlie and Mr Lynde’s hands in the circle. 

“And ready, here we go.”

The circles immediately collapsed, a ruckus ensuing that Mrs Lynde continued to clap over. That is until she realised that she was about to get nowhere, and she called for it to end, first in a mild tone, growing to one of utter panic. 

Gilbert stifled a grin as Lorelai shrugged discreetly at him. 

“That was… a start.” Mrs Lynde nodded, unconvincingly at the young students. “Lets take a little break. Catch my breath.”

As she repeated herself, Lorelai and the rest of the girls followed a nigh on hysterical Ruby to the cloak room. Lorelai leaned on the wall, looking at the young blonde with mild curiosity. 

“What is the matter, Ruby?” Diana asked

“Are you feeling faint again?” Anne chirped up.

Lorelai raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Her eyes lingering on the clearly distressed girl sitting facing the semi-circle.

“I… What if I’m pregnant?” She cried indignantly.

Lorelai’s eyebrows shot up, her gaze flicking over the other girl’s faces. She didn’t miss Miss Stacy appearing over their shoulders. The others did. 

“My mother said if I so much go near as a boy, I might get pregnant, and if a boy touches me, then I’ll certainly get pregnant! So I must be. You all could be!” 

“I’m sure that should holding hands get a girl pregnant, it would be more frowned upon outside of wedlock.” Lorelai drawled, causing the other girls to turn, ceasing their cries of horror and fear. “Or did you all miss Anne’s speech about her previous families ‘pet mouse’, when she arrived in Avonlea?”

“How could you let this happen?” Josie Pye shouted at Miss Stacy.

“Girls, girls, please calm yourselves. I can assure you, as Lorelai said, no one will become pregnant from dancing.” Miss Stacy said softly.

“But there was so much touching!” Cried Ruby.

Lorelai rolled her eyes and moved back into the main room, not wanting to pay more attention to the hysterical girls. At least she understood why some of her classical authors suggested the craziness of women. Her eyes fell on Gilbert, who raised an eyebrow at her, but said nothing as he checked over Charlie. 

She headed over to the window, looking out, waiting for the girls to calm down before they rejoined the group.

The groups reformed and Mr Lynde - Mrs Lynde’s son, not husband - joined Lorelai’s circle, taking her hand in the space between her and Jane. Lorelai’s eyes met Gilbert’s once more. 

He sent her a small smirk. 

They circled once, their formation holding, and Lorelai kept her mind to her footwork, consciously not looking at Gilbert’s face. They circled back to their starting positions and Lorelai’s gaze left the floor, falling on the concentrating, yet pleased, look on Gilbert’s face. 

Her heart fluttered in her chest.

“And set!” Mrs Lynde announced. 

Lorelai dropped the two hands she had been holding, and followed the shout of Mrs Lynde, with Mr Lynde and then the other boy, of whom she paid no attention. Her eyes meeting Gilbert’s as they let their respective partner’s hands, and ‘reeled’. 

Lorelai didn’t miss the way he was looking at her, his intense gaze fixed on her face, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. 

The lines reformed and Lorelai found herself facing him again. Her heart rate speeding up as she knew what was about to happen. She could see the gleam in his eye as he came towards her, the most adorable smile on his face. His chest only inches from hers. He moved away, at the call of Mrs Lynde, and then raised his arms, giving space for her. 

He caught her hand and held it firmly as her and Diana swapped. 

His hand was warm around hers.

Her heart thrummed through her chest and she was almost certain he could feel her shaking. His hand tightened around hers for a split second, causing her to both jump and wonder if she had imagined it. Her eyes shot to his face. The smile on his face told her she had not imagined it. 

They were much closer as they danced around the circles than she and her previous dancing partners had been, and she couldn’t take her eyes off his as they returned the other way. 

He dropped hands with Jane and stepped closer to Lorelai at Mrs Lynde’s call of “Set!”, and then again at her next command, before he took both of her hands in his. The warmth flooded through her as they didn’t break eye contact, circling around one another. She could feel how close he was to her. He smiled, genuinely.

She dropped his hands and moved to the other boy, still unable to look away from his intense stare. His smile had dropped slightly, but was immediately back in place as she dropped hands with the other boy, and they moved on with the dance moves. 

He smirked as he passed her, his back to the other, boy and Lorelai could feel the blush that undoubtedly coloured her cheeks, if not her entire face. When he turned back around, there was a full blown grin on his face. 

They rejoined hands, ready for the next moves, unable to look away from one another. 

They went towards the other line, then back again, and his hand lifted hers, as he smirked slightly. His other hand catching Diana’s as she swapped with Jane Andrews. 

They went again.

At the end of the lesson, Lorelai dropped her hands with Mr Lynde and Moody; her gaze still transfixed on Gilbert’s face and she curtseyed; in a fashion that would make her grandmother Walter proud. 

When she came back up, Gilbert bowed, and straightened. 

She was so focused on him, that she almost missed the rest of the class going to collect their belongings. She blushed, and nodded towards the cloakroom. He smiled. 

Once she had her coat, hat and lunch basket, she headed out the door, finding Gilbert standing at the bottom of the steps. Off to one side, Ruby was staring at him, while he turned to face Lorelai, as she descended the steps, the door to the school closing behind her. 

“Are you and Dorothy coming over tonight? Bash is cooking; his mother’s recipe, and I’m sure I know a beautiful girl who would love some of your attention.” Gilbert grinned as they headed towards their route home.

Ruby’s jaw dropped as they passed her, but neither noticed. 

“Yes, Bash extended the invitation yesterday, while he was mending the fence on the chicken coop.” Lorelai nodded. “How is Delly now? Is she settling at all?”

“She’s better, she fell asleep on me the other night. She screamed herself hoarse the last few nights though, so part of it might have been a factor.” Gilbert admitted. “I know she misses Mary; we all do.”

Lorelai reached out, touching his shoulder, and he sent her a grateful smile. “Mary was an incredible woman, but there was nothing anyone could do. She was always telling me she was too stubborn for her own good.”

“I know someone else, just as stubborn.” Gilbert shot her a teasing look.

They both laughed.

That night, Lorelai and Dorothy Winters arrived at the Blythe homestead, both armed with goods. Lorelai’s scones - of which she had baked with Gilbert in mind - and a lemon tart Dorothy had made that day, that had turned out so perfectly she wasn’t sure she could make anything better. 

Lorelai had barely raised her hand to knock then the door opened and Gilbert Blythe welcomed them over the threshold. He first took Dorothy’s coat and hat, and placed the tart on the table with a polite ‘thank you’, and the older woman made her way over to the screaming baby in Bash’s arms, down the corridor. 

He then took the basket from Lorelai, with barely a glance at its contents, before she took her hat, and gloves, setting them on the seat, before she turned and he moved closer to her, sliding the coat from her shoulders. His fingers brushing the skin at the base of her neck. She slid her arms from the coat sleeves, her skin tingling where he had touched her. 

She turned to face him slowly as he hung up the coat, and turned back to face her. “Thank you.” He mumbled softly to her, not moving away despite their close proximity. 

“You’re most welcome.” She breathed back. 

He gave her a soft smile.

Someone cleared their throat in the corridor, and the two immediately stepped back from one another, their faces burning. Gilbert busied himself with the kettle, while Lorelai went to put the tart and scones away. 

Dorothy and Bash exchanged knowing looks, and smiled at one another. 

“Lorelai, would you mind taking Delly, I’m going to fetch more firewood.” Bash handed over the still screaming baby, and headed out of the front door. 

Lorelai turned the baby, now more than four months old, to face her and set about soothing her, by rocking her, held tightly to her chest while patting her bum firmly. Within minutes, the screaming had reduced to nothing and her eyes began to close. 

Gilbert stared at Lorelai in awe.

“You should be here more often, if thats how she is with you.”

Lorelai laughed. “She just needs another woman around.” 

_That’s what I said_ . Gilbert thought, hiding his smile. _You can stay here, all the time._

Dorothy, unlike her granddaughter did not miss the double meaning to Gilbert’s words, and raised her eyebrow at him, though he wasn’t looking at her. His gaze remained on Lorelai; the kettle in his hand clearly forgotten. Dorothy took it and filled the teapot, causing the boy to snap out of his reverie and mumble apologies to the elderly woman. 

She waved him away. 

Lorelai headed out of the house and onto the porch, her eyes lingering on Bash as he carried an arm full of wood towards the front door.

Inside the house, Dorothy turned to Gilbert, who was looking more nervous than he had ever been around Dorothy Winters in his life. She watched the boy fidget with the way he set the table and finally put her hands over his, stopping him from straightening out the already perfect settings. 

“You’re going to have to tell her someday, boy.” Dorothy smiled kindly at Gilbert, who looked up at her in shock. “I give you permission to court, and marry my granddaughter. You’ve had my permission for as long as I’ve known you.”

Gilbert gave the older woman a look of disbelief. “You mean that?” 

Dorothy nodded once. “I’ll slap you up the head if you keep her waiting much longer mind. I’ll eventually have to engage her, whether that be to you, as I would prefer; or to someone else.”

Gilbert scowled. “I know I have a preference about that.”

“And so does she.”

Gilbert glanced towards the door, where Lorelai was swaying in place. “The person she was talking to Mary about, the morning after Bash’s wedding.”

“I think I recall. Yes. Who do you think Lorelai knows well enough to say that about?”

Gilbert’s eyes snapped to Dorothy, his jaw hanging open.

“Close your mouth, son, you’ll catch flies.”

Gilbert closed his mouth. His mind whirling over every possibility he had thought of, for the person she could have been talking about. Obviously in his heart he had _wanted_ it to be him, but could that be right? Did she truly think him worthy of her?

Lorelai shivered slightly as she entered the house again, holding the door for Bash, before letting it close behind her, and she moved towards the fire. Her eyes were fixed on Delly, as the baby slept on. 

The both of them completely unaware as to the revelation Gilbert was trying to wrap his brain around. His heart racing and his mind a million miles from the kitchen in which he stood. His hands clutched the back of his chair and a grin formed on his face. 

Lorelai set Delly in her crib, in the kitchen, so she could eat with the others. Her body was so aware of Gilbert, sitting beside her, it was as though she had been zapped with _electricity_ , as Miss Stacy had shown them in one of her first lessons. 

She nearly jumped out of her skin when he caught her arm that evening as Bash put Delly down for the night. Dorothy sat in the rocking chair by the fire, the book open in her hands, though they missed the fact she was watching them, and not reading. 

“Lorelai, there is something I should tell you. I should have told you this weeks ago, but I didn’t because I thought perhaps you might react poorly.” Gilbert rushed out. 

Lorelai’s eyes travelled from Gilbert’s face to where he was loosely holding her wrist, then her eyes fixed back on his face. They moved over the curve of his lips; the nervous arch of his brow. 

“What is it?” She asked, curiously.

Gilbert glanced nervously back at Dorothy, who busied herself with the book and pulled Lorelai onto the porch. “Lorelai, I…” Gilbert took a deep breath, fixing his gaze on Lorelai’s eyes as he let it out. “I love you.” 

Lorelai took a moment, trying to process what Gilbert had said, before she swallowed the lump that had risen in her throat from her anxiety of his pause. Her mind swam with possibility as he stared at her, waiting for a response. 

Her mind finally settled and she was able to process his words. Her hands found his forearms as she steadied herself. The heart beat in her chest was strong, but the steadiest she had felt it all day. 

“I love you, Gilbert Blythe.”

Gilbert, at first, thought he had imagined the words that came out of Lorelai’s mouth. His eyes fixed upon her face as his heart thrummed in his chest. There was a roaring in his ears that he couldn’t place, and he could feel his chest rising and falling as though he had run a marathon. 

“You do?” He whispered softly, unable to take his eyes off her.

She nodded, a smile forming on her face. 

Gilbert Blythe woke with his heart racing and a smile on his face. As he stared at the ceiling, he thought of the dream he had had. It had been vivid, that was for sure. As he considered it, recalling the dream, his heart sank in his chest. 


	9. Attempted Confessions

That day, Gilbert sat on his porch, Delly wrapped warmly in blankets and in his arms. Bash had left her with him while he went to find Mary’s son, to tell him of his mother’s death. Gilbert had offered to go in Bash’s stead, not for the first time, but Bash had said that it might be better coming from him. He’d left early that morning, electing to go via the train. 

Gilbert hushed the baby as he watched the long grass ripple in the slight breeze. He sighed, getting up and he headed towards the orchard, bouncing Delly in his arms gently as he walked. 

“Delphine Lacroix, what am I going to do. At night I dream of my confession, but every time I have her, right in front of me. I am never strong enough,  _ brave enough _ , to tell her.”

The baby cooed.

“Tell who, what?” 

The shock that ran through Gilbert at her familiar voice had him rooted to the spot. He turned slowly, a deep blush colouring his face. His eyes met the wondrous sight of Lorelai Winters, as Delly gurgled happily, waving her hands around, letting go of Gilbert’s finger.

“It doesn’t matter.” He mumbled, dropping his gaze to the dirt path. 

Lorelai rolled her eyes. “So the baby is of more use, giving you advice, than a grown woman?” She asked, falling into step beside him, as they continued through the orchard.

“She doesn’t ask too many difficult questions.” He gave Lorelai a cheeky grin, and she laughed. “In all honesty; I know what I should do, it is just difficult to say to someone you care about, if you aren’t sure they feel the same way.”

Lorelai sent him a surprised look. “You caught the feelings bug that is going around, huh?”

Gilbert avoided her gaze as he laughed nervously.

“Is it a girl from Charlottetown? One you met doing that apprenticeship?”

Gilbert couldn’t help the way his stomach twisted uncomfortably. “Would it bother you if it was?” 

He knew he was fishing, but a nagging part of his brain wanted to avoid the inevitable awkwardness and heartbreak if she outright rejected him. He wasn’t sure that after everything, he could cope with that level of hurt. Not right now.

He missed the hurt expression that passed over Lorelai’s face, quickly replaced with a neutral expression.

“You should bring her to the barn dance.” Lorelai covered herself, and she stopped, picking at an apple on one of the trees to give her a split second longer to compose herself. “I’m sure she’s lovely.”

Gilbert watched her turn on her heels and walked back the way they had come. His face fell; no longer having to hide the hurt as she passed Marilla Cuthbert, who turned with her and they headed back up to the house. 

Gilbert felt sick. 

“I guess that answers my question, doesn’t it Delly?” Gilbert barely contained pain. “She doesn’t love me. I doubt she ever would. She’s too good for me.”

Delphine gurgled happily as she chewed on his finger. 

“Maybe this is for the best. Maybe I should move on.” He sighed, turning back towards the house. 

The sick feeling didn’t subside as he ate lunch, or as he completed his chores, Delly coming with him in the pram as he needed. She gurgled her way through the rest of the afternoon, and fell asleep as he returned to the house. 

Dorothy was sitting at his kitchen table when he entered. His gaze flew around the room, instinctively looking for  _ her _ . Dorothy sighed. 

“Gilbert Blythe, if you like her so much, why don’t you  _ do _ something about it?” Dorothy tsked, taking Delly from the pram while he removed his coat.

“I tried, today.” He admitted. “She doesn’t like me, she told me to invite someone from Charlottetown.” 

Dorothy clipped him up the back of his head. “If you honestly believe she has no feelings for you, you are a bigger idiot than I pegged you for.” 

Gilbert stared at her, then pinched himself on the leg. It hurt; he winced. 

“You’ve got a deep hole to dig yourself out of right now, Gilbert Blythe.” Dorothy shook her head. “Lorelai sits her exams in three days, and whatever that comes to, she goes.”

Gilbert’s heart hammered in his chest. “What if she can’t forgive me?”

“You need to make her.” 

For the next three days, Lorelai avoided Gilbert Blythe; her heart broken and she had a renewed desire to score better than both Gilbert Blythe and Anne Shirley-Cuthbert. If she could do that, she could do anything else she set her mind to. 

Gilbert ran his pen through his fingers, watching the way the wood seemed to change in the shadows and glimmers of light through the train window as he took the train to Charlottetown to take his exams. He had been given the chance to do so by Dorothy Winters, who had graciously paid for the whole excursion. 

With the promise that he did  _ something  _ about his feelings for Lorelai. 

The pen had been a gift from Lorelai after he had decided to become a doctor, and written to her about it all. It had arrived in a parcel with the box tied in the classic ribbon; the pen inside had also been tied with a ribbon. In her letter she had told him that she was ecstatic for him, and that she was willing to help in any way. The pen was both congratulatory and a hope that he would one day take his exams and rival her for their scores.

He had barely taken the pen out of the box since, as he had wanted to keep it immaculate. But he had taken her hope and raised it in his mind. Armed with that pen he was going to prove that he was smart, smart enough to attend college and become the best doctor he could possibly be. 

It was with that mentality that he entered the exam hall. His pen in hand and the ink set at the table.

Meanwhile, in their townhouse, Lorelai sat taking her entrance exams under the watchful gaze of a private examiner. The stern looking woman sat across the table from Lorelai and was watching her intensely as she inked her answers on the pages carefully.

At the end of the exam, the woman took the exam paper and questions, and headed out to the stables, while Lorelai rejoined her grandmother in the greenhouse for tea. She slumped into the chair and sipped on the flavourful Earl Grey tea. 

“I hope you don’t mind, since we will be going by carriage to Avonlea, and Gilbert was taking his exams here too; Gilbert will be joining us for dinner and the carriage home.” Dorothy ignored the choking of her granddaughter as she examined the roses around the greenhouse. 

“You could have said something about that sooner, Grandmother!” Lorelai snapped, glancing at the reflection in the glass of the greenhouse. 

Her hair hung in loose curls down her back, having only bothered to brush it that morning. She wore a blouse of pale green that tucked into her long grey skirt that brushed the floor She hadn’t even donned a pair of shoes.

Lorelai glared at the back of Dorothy’s head.

“Come now Lorelai, the boy is lovely, and if you took off those self-deprecating glasses of yours, you’d see that he was perfect for you.”

Lorelai snorted in the most unladylike of fashions. “Yeah, if only he were single.” She snapped scathingly before storming out of the greenhouse and towards the stairs, she was just returning downstairs when the doorbell rang and the doorman opened the door, freezing Lorelai in her tracks.

Gilbert stood on the porch in his finest clothes. His hair had clearly been done for the occasion and he was looking slightly overwhelmed.

Lorelai was so stunned by his appearance she didn’t register him coming to the base of the stairs until he waved a hand in front of her face. 

“Lorelai, are you quite alright?” Gilbert asked concerned. 

“Im sorry, yes, I’m fine.” Lorelai smiled.

She mentally scolded herself. He was not interested in her, he was in fact seeing someone else.

Gilbert smiled. “How did you feel the exams went?” 

Lorelai hummed. “I suppose we’ll know soon enough.” 

Gilbert chuckled. “Of that, I am sure.”

Lorelai nodded, before recalling that he had not been to their townhouse before and she offered him a tour of the house, meeting the eye of her housekeeper who gave her a discreet nod. 

“That would be most welcome.” Gilbert smiled, offering his arm to Lorelai, who as if second nature, slipped her arm through his, before realising how that would be taken by anyone else that might see them. 

_ Too late now _ . Lorelai mentally chided herself.  _ He is still courting another lady, and you go and do something like that. What an idiot. _

Lorelai took Gilbert through the house, showing him most of the bedrooms - not her own or Dorothy’s - the kitchen, parlour, the greenhouse, and the drawing rooms. Then they headed outside.

They didn’t stop talking as they walked, he even got a head-thrown back in laughter from the young Winters; before finally they were called into the dining room for dinner. 

What neither of them had expected, however, was the for the table to be set for two, instead of three. Lorelai turned to meet the eyes of the staff, and she narrowed her gaze. 

“Your Grandmother sends her apologies, but had retired to her room to rest before the carriage ride back to Avonlea.” Poppy curtseyed. 

Lorelai nodded once and took the seat Gilbert had pulled out for her. He slid it back into place, like a true gentleman and Lorelai had to consciously settle herself with the heart-wrenching fact Gilbert Blythe was  _ still _ not interested in her, and likely would never be interested in her. 

She was not a well-behaved lady; the perfect wifely type he probably desired. 

Across the table, Gilbert attempted to catch Lorelai’s eye as they ate. But she kept her eyes focused on the plate. He sighed and sat back in his chair, the plate cleared and whisked away by one of the maids. 

In their many letters to one another, Lorelai had candidly explained her hatred of poorly treated staff, and she hated the way that her Grandmother Walter had treated all of her staff - that, as it turned out, were not her staff at all. She had resorted to caring for her Grandmother in their place. Of course that hadn’t gone down well, but Lorelai persisted; going as far as to give them all the weekend off. 

There was, very clearly, a large respect for Lorelai and Dorothy in this townhouse, as the staff appeared to be unable to help enough. Though Gilbert briefly wondered if this was just the expected behaviour and attitude of staff. The question was blown from his mind when Lorelai and he entered the kitchen and she ordered the staff on break, and to leave the dishes for her to do. 

Gilbert stood beside her, a tea towel in his hand, the blazer and waistcoat to his suit discarded on the bench and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Lorelai stood behind him, her hair dragged into a messy bun at the nape of her neck, her skirt covered by the usual apron and her sleeves pushed up to her elbows, as she scrubbed at the plates.

“I forget what life you should actually be leading, when I see you so often like this.” Gilbert admitted, watching her as he set the plate on top of the stack. 

“My Grandmother Walter, she would roll in her grave if she knew what I was like here. When I was younger, I was particularly close with my nanny’s child, Samantha. She went to law school last year. Grandmother  _ Mary Walter _ used to hit the roof when I came back from my own time with Sam; covered in dirt and my dress ruined. We always had so much fun, and it was nice just being around regular children.”

“Is that where you get your desire to be ‘normal’ from?” Gilbert asked, genuinely interested. 

Lorelai laughed. “It is where some of the fun come from; making my granny turn in her grave. The other part of it, I think, comes from the fact that I know I will never genuinely need something. Everything I desire comes out of want, not a necessity.”

Gilbert stared at her, in awe. 

“Besides, I’m set on helping as many people as I can. I’ve set up college funds and scholarships for all of the children of our staff. We have given them all health care and access to good food, a home for each family and they all have a place at our table for the rest of their lives.”

Gilbert smiled. He wasn’t sure what he should say to all of that. 

Lorelai turned, the suds sticking to her arms and she cocked her head to one side. “You’ve barely said anything since before dinner. If you would prefer to be alone with your thoughts, I can be quiet.”

“No, I was just listening to you. I think everything you’ve said is true to your nature. I truly believe you will make a wonderful wife someday. A most wonderful person to be employed by too.” 

Lorelai huffed. “You say that, but unless I marry before my Grandmother dies, the estate will go into stasis. All of this goes away for the staff. In fact, I’d get an allowance with which to live comfortably, but not enough to help the staff as we do now.”

Gilbert stared at her open-mouthed. “Why is that?”

“It was Grandmother Walter’s demand; she disapproved of all of this  _ helping the staff  _ business, and she knew I wanted to put off marriage until I sound someone I love. Thankfully, Grandmother Dorothy was able to find a loophole in the agreement, and we got to make sure that I was still able to keep my funds after that witch’s death.”

Gilbert gave Lorelai a confused look. “I thought it was all your Grandmother Dorothy’s money anyway.” 

Lorelai chuckled darkly. “It is. Grandmother Walter trapped her in the agreement with the threat of taking me away, as she technically was my guardian after my parent’s death - being the maternal side and that being what my father told her on his deathbed, supposedly - so she could close all contact.”

“That’s awful.” Gilbert touched her shoulder. 

Lorelai leaned into his touch. “It is considering that Grandmother Dorothy was already getting on in years when I was born. She’s almost eighty-six now.”

Gilbert understood where she was coming from. “Then I suppose you ought to see if you care for someone enough to marry them soon.” He teased her. 

She laughed. 

Inside, Gilbert was hoping she would tell him that she cared for him, but he knew that the likelihood of that was slim. His mind jumped back to the promise he had made Dorothy after she had told him that she had sorted his college entrance exams in Charlottetown. 

“Lorelai-” Gilbert started as Lorelai stood up, turning to him, his name rolling from her mouth. They both stopped. 

“You say whatever you were going to.” He rushed out.

“No, no, you first.” Lorelai blushed. 

“It’s absurd really.” He stammered.

“Out with it, Blythe!” Lorelai cried indignantly.

“Will you attend the Barn Dance with me?” He rushed out, still unable to get out his true feelings.

Lorelai stared at him, her lips parted as her hands reached out to take his, steadying herself. “What about your interest in someone?”

“There is no one I would rather go to the dance with, than you, Lorelai.”

Lorelai couldn’t help the giant grin that made its way across her face. “You mean that?”

“Of course.” Gilbert pushed back a stray tendril of auburn hair, behind her ear as she held his other hand in both of his. His fingers grazing the soft skin of her cheek and down her neck a short way. He gave her a tender, soft smile, which she returned.

“Then of course I will attend the Barn Dance with you.” She nodded, brightly. 

That night, as they travelled back to Avonlea in the carriage, Lorelai and Gilbert sat on one side, while Dorothy sat at the other side, not paying them any attention as she stared out of the window. 


End file.
